


All My Science is Sexy

by atomicchronicle



Series: All My ___ is ___ [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bisexuality, Biting, Booty Calls, Car Sex, Cheating, Consensual Sex, Dom!Leonard, Dom/sub, F/M, Fluff, Gay Sex, Gentle Sex, Handcuffs, Heterosexual Sex, Light Masochism, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masochist!Barry, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Prostitution, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Squirting, Sub!Hartley, Threesome, Threesome - F/F/M, Virginity, Workplace Sex, polyamorous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:52:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 25,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2891033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atomicchronicle/pseuds/atomicchronicle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shameless smut – because people asked for it. I take prompts. :)</p><p>Chapter 11 - Biting<br/>Chapter 12 - Triple Heart<br/>Chapter 13 - Sex God</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Christmas Kiss (Continuted)

**Author's Note:**

> I've always liked the idea of Barry being this super nice guy with conflicted feelings on wanting to treat Iris like a lady but also wanting to give it to her hard. And yet simultaneously wanting to treat her like a lady because that's what he wants, not because social convention dictates it.
> 
> Also, first time writing lady porn. If you want me to improve, you have to critique.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuation of Christmas Kiss (a one shot from All My Science is Sexy).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Barry/Iris, Barry, Iris, Eddie, date, virginity, loss of virginity, tied up, oral sex, heterosexual sex

“It's Allen, isn't it,” Eddie said.  
  
His voice held no emotion when he said it. It was matter-of-fact. For all his inflection, he could've said anything from 'grass is green' to 'dogs are mammals'.  
  
Iris chewed her lip, trying not to picture Barry in her bed, shirt askew. He'd been right, Eddie was a good guy. He deserved a polite break-up. And that was something Iris was struggling to do.  
  
“It's always been Barry,” Iris said. “I...I wish I'd been able to be honest with everyone sooner.” She analyzed him for a reaction. He was so incredibly calm about this.  
  
“Iris, you're an amazing woman,” Eddie said, a smile growing on his face. “You deserve to be happy.”  
  
She'd known that he was a good guy. Lots of guys were “good guys”. But this was so genuine. So heartfelt. Iris had really tried to make things work with them, but her heart had never really been in it. Not when Barry was always being flaunted in her face.  
  
Maybe, just maybe, if Barry had stayed in the coma longer, she could've truly cared for Eddie. She could've been the 100% loyal girlfriend a guy like Eddie deserved. But Barry had woken up, and she'd wanted to keep him by her side more than ever.  
  
“I really hope someone comes along and makes you as happy as Barry makes me,” Iris said. She pat Eddie's shoulder. She got up, leaving Eddie on the couch.  
  
Eddie flipped open the case file laying on his coffee table. The irony. Iris was the person who made him happiest. And he was the one who was about to make her the saddest.  
  
The blood report from when the Flash had beaten Eddie had come back. The blood hadn't belonged to Eddie, which meant that it had to belong to the Flash. Eddie had sent it to a private lab for privacy. It had just come in today, identification verified.  
  
Barry Allen was going to jail for vigilantism.  
  
  
  
Iris wasn't used to being forced to wait for sex.  
  
Normally, she dictated the speed of the sexual aspect of a relationship. Usually her partner was ready and she wasn't. So they just had to sit around until she felt comfortable enough for them to put her hands on her.  
  
She'd thought Barry would take her that very night when she'd given him the news. He'd kissed her, tasting of cinnamon and coffee. His large hands had rested lightly on her hips. But then he'd walked her to the door and told her that he'd pick her up for dinner tomorrow.  
  
Iris had gone all out with her makeup. She knew Barry liked it when she wore her deep violet dress, so she'd laid that out. But what about underwear? Would Barry make her wait a few weeks before making a move or would they get desert to go? What sort of underwear was he into anyway? Iris picked her maroon lace set. She liked the way it looked against her skin.  
  
Now that she thought about it, Iris had no idea what exactly Barry was into sexually. Most guys would give the whole T&A answer. Of course Barry was going to say something different. Or would he? Iris tried to pick out a single instance where she'd caught him looking at a woman's...something.  
  
She'd never seen Barry ogle. Was that because he was too busy ogling her when she wasn't looking? Iris slid her hands over her body, tingles all over her skin. She liked that. The idea that every time she'd wished for him to be thinking of her, he had.  
  
  
  
Iris descended, knowing that Barry's eyes were all on her.  
  
She hadn't thought that Barry would be so...dapper. He wore a white shirt with a black suit jacket. His hair had been smoothed back, just the way she liked. Iris nearly tripped coming down the steps.  
  
“You two look nice,” Joe said. “What's the occasion?” He was leaning in the kitchen doorway, beer in hand. He wore the jersey for the football game that was on.  
  
Barry stepped forward.  
  
“Joe, I'm going to take Iris on a date, but I'd like your blessing,” Barry said. Joe's confusion melted into a laugh. Joe wagged a finger at Barry.  
  
“And that is one of many reasons that you are the only one I'll ever approve of,” Joe laughed, heading to the couch. “Have fun you two.”  
  
“What's that supposed to mean?” Iris asked.  
  
“Barry, what do you keep in your top dresser drawer?” Joe asked, turning the TV on.  
  
“Socks. Underwear. Pajamas,” Barry said.  
  
“Anything else?” Joe pressed. He started flipping through channels, trying to find his game. He paused on a hockey game that was erupting in a brawl.  
  
“My mom's wedding ring,” Barry said. “Some moth balls?”  
  
“Where do you keep your condoms?” Joe asked. He left the hockey game for his football game.  
  
“I don't...have them,” Barry said, rubbing his arm. “I've...never needed one.” Iris connected the dots. Barry was a virgin. He'd waited for Iris all this time. Iris wished she'd jumped him at junior prom. Wished that when he'd gone off to college, that she'd sneaked into his dorm and made love to him.  
  
“And that is why Barry is the only guy I've ever approved of,” Joe said. “Only guy you've ever known willing to wait fourteen years just to date you.”  
  
Iris got up on her tip-toes, kissing Barry on the mouth.  
  
“I love you, Barry Allen,” she said. “Let's go to dinner.”  
  
  
  
“Mm, that tiramisu was to die for,” Iris moaned, slipping into the passenger side. Barry watched her long legs as she slithered in. He loved it when she wore violet. But when she was in cranberry-  
  
He'd always pretended like he wasn't overly fond of the color. He knew Iris would never stop wearing it just because of him – she knew her skin looked all the more lovely with it. But she'd slightly avoided it. Barry had never mentioned that all his near slip-ups had been when she'd been wearing some variety of maroon.  
  
“I know, right?” Barry asked.  
  
“Whose car is this?” Iris asked, touching the dashboard.  
  
“Dr. Wells',” Barry said. “He's still deciding if he want to sell it or have it rigged up for him to use.” Iris poked around. She laughed, pulling a box out of the back seat. Barry pulled out of the parking lot, attention taken by the road.  
  
“Friction proof condoms?” Iris asked. “Why would you want to take away that? Oh, there's a note. It says 'I caution restraint, Mr. Allen'.”  
  
Goddamnhim. God. Fucking. Damn. Him. Barry was trying SO hard to romance Iris, to give her everything she deserved in life, and Dr. Wells was sticking his nose into this. Right after the old man had watched Barry chastise Caitlin and Cisco for trying to give him advice on sex with super-speed.  
  
Well, Barry was also sort of doing it for himself. To have the first date he'd always dreamed of. But wouldn't Iris want this too? An evening of beauty and luxury?  
  
“So are we going back to your place?” Iris asked, coy smile on her lips.  
  
It wasn't that Barry didn't want to have sex. Ever since he figured out that he could hear Iris masturbate from his room, he'd been jerking off, wishing it was him giving her those pleasures. Every time he masturbated, he thought about her. Her milk chocolate skin rubbing against his.  
  
Barry swallowed hard.  
  
“Well, it's the first date,” Barry said.  
  
“That's what you think?” Iris asked, leaning over. Her rose perfume wafted into his nose. “Barry, we've met up once a week since high school. We've been dating a while. Let's let this night end differently than all the others.”  
  
Put that way, it was difficult to argue with her. Perhaps a compromise.  
  
“How about a nightcap?” he suggested. “I've got some gin back at my place.”  
  
“Sure,” Iris purred.  
  
  
  
Barry paused in front of his door, key in hand.  
  
When was the last time he'd picked up? Did he leave those boxers on the floor? When was the last time he'd cleaned out his fridge? He turned to Iris, heart hammering.  
  
“Can I have you wait out here for a minute while I pick some things up?” Barry asked. Iris rolled her eyes.  
  
“I've seen your dirty laundry,” she pointed out. “I've washed your dirty laundry.”  
  
“Humor me? Please?” Barry begged. Iris sighed.  
  
“Fine,” she said, leaning against the far wall. “One minute. And then ready or not I'm coming in and messing you and your apartment up.”  
  
Barry could live with the idea of Iris doing that. He slipped into his apartment, turning on the super-speed. Short of running a vacuum, he considered the job done. He opened the door. Iris was lounging against the far wall, looking rather bored.  
  
“Welcome to my lair,” Barry said, pretending to twirl a mustache. Iris pushed off the wall, rocketing towards him. He caught her, receiving a kiss. She still tasted like tiramisu. Barry shut the door behind him.  
  
“I thought you were coming in for a nightcap,” Barry said. Iris pouted.  
  
“Maybe I'd rather drink you up,” she said. “A shot of Barry Allen for me.” Barry turned away from her, euphemism making it harder to pour Iris a drink. Part of him wished alcohol would work on him, but he also didn't want to drink and then have whiskey dick.  
  
Iris came behind him, arms wrapping around him. “I'm sorry.”  
  
“For what?” Barry asked. “It's been an amazing evening.”  
  
“Guys always get blamed for pushing girls for sex,” Iris said. “And here I am doing it to you. Listen, Barry, if you're not ready, just...tell me.” Barry chuckled.  
  
“It's not that I don't...want sex,” he said. “I've been wanting this for fourteen years. Now that you're here, it sort of feels like a dream. Like at any second you're going to vanish.”  
  
He turned, handing Iris her drink. She downed it, licking her lips.  
  
“I'm not going to vanish,” Iris said. Barry set his full glass down. He took Iris' empty glass, setting it down next to his.  
  
“Are you mad?” Iris asked. Barry turned, kissing her like she'd never been kissed. Barry's lips felt like they were on fire, searing her own, trailing down her neck to her collar bone and back again. He pulled her into his bedroom, laying her on his neatly made bed. Iris kicked off her shoes.  
  
Barry ran his hands over her curves, one hand finding the zipper of her dress. He slid it off, gasping.  
  
Cranberry underwear.  
  
Even if Iris walked out that moment, saying that she never wanted to see him again, Barry could die happy. It contrasted perfectly with the cream and coffee color. He slid his hands over her legs, savoring the color of her skin. He still knelt, dress in his lap.  
  
“God, Barry,” Iris crooned, sliding a leg over his shoulder. “Where did you learn to kiss like that?”  
  
_Night after night of imagining it_ , he thought, pulling off his tie.  
  
“Since it's my first time, do you mind if I...take over?” he asked. Iris touched the tie.  
  
“The safe word can be 'taco',” she said. “Agreed? And you have to take off your shirt.”  
  
“Agreed,” Barry said. He had his shirt off in just a moment. Iris gasped, tracing his abs with a foot. She sat up, reaching for them. He caught her hands, tying them to the headboard.  
  
“You'll get your turn,” he said.  
  
“When did those happen?” Iris asked. Barry didn't answer, instead, he straddled her, kissing the tops of her breasts. He unclasped her bra, sliding it up to the headboard. He worked his way down, licking the undersides of her breasts. She gasped, moaning and squirming beneath him. He bit beneath each ever so gently, pulling a particularly loud cry each time.  
  
He kissed his way down her navel, hands conforming to the arch of her back. He caught the panties with his teeth, pulling them down. For a moment, he met eyes with Iris.  
  
“Like what you see?” she teased, panting a little. Her legs shook. Barry ran his hands over them. They were well-shaped. Not too muscled, not too soft. And there, glistening between them was what he'd been waiting to see. He could catch glimpses of Iris as she walked to her room in a towel. He could see her traipse around the pool in a bikini. But he'd only had hints of this.  
  
She was this lovely coral color. She glistened there, clearly liking what he was doing so far. He leaned down, tasting her. Iris moaned. Her legs shook a little. He had to hold her legs apart to get a better angle.  
  
He stuck a finger just inside her. She was so warm. Slick. He pressed up, just inside. It would be as if someone pressed up on the wood panel inside a doorframe. Only this panel was part of a very large, very important part of female pleasure. He massaged it slow at first, gaining speed and pressure as he continued.  
  
Iris thrashed, moaning. Barry replaced his tongue with a well-lubricated thumb. Other males always wanted to see a woman suck dick. Barry didn't currently care much about that. Instead, he wanted Iris to be consumed by him that she lost all presence of mind. To be only able to think of him and what he was doing to her. Her face in rapture.  
  
“Barry, fuck me,” she whimpered.  
  
  
The instant Barry let her go, she was on him.  
  
She didn't know when he'd removed his pants, but Iris was more than happy that they were gone. She sat on top of his erection, taking all of him in. Had he always been so big? Her legs shook still from the sheer ecstasy he'd bestowed on her.  
  
He rolled on top, snaking his tongue into her mouth. He gripped her close, hands running over her back. His whole body was burning hot, filling her again and again. It was as if each thrust had been calculated to hit every sweet spot, sending electricity crackling over her skin.  
  
Iris pulled her mouth away, gasping for breath. When she did, she heard her name chanted over and over in her ear. Barry's warm breath wafted over her neck, sending chills down her spine.  
  
“Barry, I'm- I-,” she gasped. She'd come so many times, but this one was different.  
  
“I am, too,” he choked.  
  
They shook together. Iris released the pent-up-ness she'd been holding in. It flowed out of her, spurting all over Barry. He grunted, shuddering. He gave her two more thrusts. He held her hips, keeping himself inside.  
  
The two collapsed, panting.  
  
“Where did you learn to fuck like that?” Iris gasped.  
  
“Scientific journals about the clit,” Barry chuckled. “How'd I do for my first time?”  
  
“First time?” Iris gasped. “There's no way a fuck like that was your first fucking time!”  
  
“I guess,” Barry said. “If you're talking about all the times we've done it in my head.” He kissed her.  
  
“You have a vivid imagination,” Iris said. “Any other tricks?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always liked the idea of Barry being this super nice guy with conflicted feelings on wanting to treat Iris like a lady but also wanting to give it to her hard. And yet simultaneously wanting to treat her like a lady because that's what he wants, not because social convention dictates it.
> 
> Also, first time writing lady porn. If you want me to improve, you have to critique.


	2. Still Handcuffed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Harrison Wells/Joe West
> 
> If Harrison can move his legs in this universe, he does a damn good job not doing so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Harrison/Joe, Harrison, Joe, handcuffs, homosexual sex, morning after, anal sex

Joe slid away from the sleeping body of Dr. Wells.

He'd drank more than he should've. Both of them had. But Joe had sworn to never get that drunk again, and for over two decades, he'd been successful. Until Dr. Wells had started pouring the drinks. And they'd been laughing. And then someone had brought up a dead wife.

Joe couldn't quite remember who'd initiated that first kiss. But he'd recalled the spearmint gum he'd pulled from the back of Dr. Wells' mouth. Remembered the soft neck he'd bitten into. The hands that had slid over his back, pulling him closer.

His first thoughts upon waking was not the crisis of sexuality that one might expect. Joe knew full well what he was like when that intoxicated. He'd hit on anything that moved, including a man. Instead, he panicked over condoms.

Joe hadn't had sex in, what, fourteen years? Fifteen? He wouldn't keep something around that he didn't need. So there was no way they'd done this safe. Was Dr. Wells clean? He didn't seem like the kind of guy who'd go around having sex. Well, at least not without doing it right.

Joe pulled the spearmint gum from his mouth, tossing it in the wastebasket by his bed. He rubbed his scalp, trying to decide how to play this. Did he act as though nothing happened? Feign black out? Try to discuss it?

Dr. Wells groaned, sitting up. He put his head between his knees – knees that were flat against the bed. Joe vaguely remembered if he'd been hurting Harrison. But apparently he was just as flexible as Joe had moved him. Harrison kept one arm back, buried in the pillows.

He sat back, arm bent strangely. Harrison glared at Joe.

“Tell me you have a key for your cuffs,” Harrison said. Joe reached over, picking up a pair of pants off the end of the bed. He pulled his keys from the pocket. He reached over, arms going around Harrison. He fumbled with it.

“Just more replays of the night,” Harrison said.

“Excuse me?” Joe asked.

“You have trouble getting a key in a lock,” Harrison said. “Amongst other difficulties.” Joe pulled away, not unlocking Dr. Wells.

“And you don't even release me,” Harrison said bitterly.

“What are you trying to say?” Joe demanded, glaring at Harrison.

“I'm saying that you're an ineffective, inattentive, and rude sexual partner,” Harrison said. “I'd like to go home and shower.”

Joe had never, ever been called bad in bed. Even after fourteen years, it still bothered him to even have someone insinuate that.

“Well, doctor, tell me what I did wrong,” Joe asked, crossing his arms.

“Your foreplay was good,” Dr. Wells said. “Very stimulating. You compensated for a paralyzed partner, so points for that. The handcuffs were a little cliché. I wasn't expecting to be on top, not when I'm paralyzed, but it doesn't hurt to ask what I'd like. You continued on your own, having trouble with getting in. And then, once in, you ignore me. I mean, I'm not going to ask for oral, but you could at least do a little stroking or better yet, pound that little organ called a prostate. I don't know. Just an idea. And, for future reference, don't say someone else's name. You don't have to say your partner's name, just don't say someone else's name. That's rude.”

Joe swallowed hard. He didn't want to unbend his pride and let this man leave unsatisfied. But he'd never been sober and touched a man. The two ideas warred in his head.

“I'm still cuffed to your bed,” Dr. Wells said, irritated. “I'm still horny. And I'm still pissed.”

Joe leaned in, tugging on Harrison's lower lip. “Then let's change one of those.”

“You think you're smooth shit,” Harrison growled. Joe licked Harrison's lips, snaking a hand under the sheets. He wasn't kidding when he'd said horny. The erection there was hard as a rock. As soon as Joe ran a hand over the length, Harrison moaned. Joe took that opportunity to nibble on the track of neck where one of Harrison's muscles stood out. It had been a sensitive spot last night. He could see where he'd taken advantage of it, little hickeys trailing down from hairline to shoulder.

Harrison's free arm started to move. Joe grabbed it, pinning it to the headboard. He kept stroking, paying special attention to the tip and base. His hand started sliding more easily, slick with pre-ejaculate.

“You like that?” Joe asked. Harrison was panting, writhing against the headboard. Joe squeezed ever so slightly harder. Just enough to pull a rather feminine gasp from Harrison's throat.

“Fuck me in the ass,” Harrison begged, voice rasping at the end. “Fuck me both.” Joe hadn't realized how much he missed pleasing someone else. All those nights masturbating alone had somehow dulled the memories of what it was like to get someone else off.

He let go of Harrison for a moment, slipping between those slim, light gold legs. He lifted them onto his shoulders, giving him leverage. Joe slid into the tight fit. Harrison choked.

“Fuck! I forgot you're big,” Harrison exclaimed. “Fuck!”

“You're not so small yourself,” Joe said, giving a few gentle thrusts. He moved his hand back to Harrison's length, gaining speed. Gaining force. Slamming himself again and again into that tight ass.

“Joe,” Harrison gasped. “I'm- fuck! I can't hold on.” Neither could Joe if Harrison was going to keep gasping like a woman. In his hand, hot fluid welled up like a spring. Joe let himself come, thrusting once more.

He knelt, still inside. The two panted.

“So, still horny?” Joe asked. Harrison had his eyes closed.

“No...but I'm still handcuffed to your bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep picturing Barry and Iris down in the kitchen staring at each other, unable to finish breakfast.


	3. Rebound Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Caitlin + Cisco + failed attempt at making candy-cane shaped cookies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Cisco/Caitlin, Caitlin, Cisco, innuendo, make-out, no sex

“Why does it smell burned in your house?” Cisco asked.

It was the first time they'd hung out at one of their houses. Normally, they went to a bar or ice cream shop. They stayed up all night at Star Labs playing Mario Party or something. But with Christmas just around the corner, invitations to homes were passed around.

“I'm in the kitchen!” Caitlin called. Cisco followed the smell of burnt things, moving into a cloud of smoke. Caitlin had opened a few windows. Cisco picked up a cookie from the cooling rack. He knew it was supposed to be a candy cane, but it had been warped in the oven. He couldn't help it. The joke was so evident.

“Training to become an erotic baker?” he asked, showing her the cookie. Caitlin glanced over her shoulder. She pouted, throwing her hands in the air.

“I guess I am,” she said. “And here I thought baking would be like chemistry.”

“It is, it's just...also a little magic, too,” Cisco said, taking a big bite from the crook of the candy cane cookie. Caitlin flushed a little.

“You do know what that looks like, right?” Caitlin asked. Cisco grinned, licking the staff of the cookie cane. The two of them stopped, realizing that they were... _flirting_.

Cisco had always watched Caitlin. He'd been at Star Labs since before she arrived. The day she was there, he'd caught a glimpse of her as she passed by the tech department. Every day from then on, he was on time, waiting for her to sweep by, coffee in hand.

And then she'd been with Ronnie.

She still strut by in the mornings, but she'd pause to wave at Ronnie or give him a kiss. Sometimes they'd walk in together, having bought coffee on their way to work. Cisco had stayed back, leaving them be. If she was happy, great. There were plenty of women on the planet. He didn't need to have Caitlin.

And then Ronnie had invited them out on group events.

It had been an obvious ploy to set him up with girls. Most of them were some flavor of nerd. But Cisco had never wanted any of them. Not when Caitlin was there, gentle smile on her face. Quiet but thoughtful. Observant. Kind.

Cisco knew making a move on someone who was taken was...wrong. But when Ronnie was gone, it had simply added to the wall that kept Cisco from so much as hitting on Caitlin. It didn't stop him from wanting her, but he couldn't bring himself to even go there.

So when Caitlin ran her tongue over the length of the cookie, his heart stuttered. Caitlin fit the cookie up to his fingers into her mouth, crunching down. She stood back, cookie gone. She held a hand to her mouth, sheepish.

“Sorry, it just sort of broke off in my mouth, so I swallowed,” Caitlin said, running her middle finger along her lower lip. “I couldn't really help it.” She looked down at his pants then back up at his face. There was a pause.

“Cisco?” Caitlin asked, leaning in. “What? No sexy comeback?”

“I have a lot of conflicting feelings about this,” he said. Caitlin giggled.

“This is the part where you take me to my bedroom and do what you want with me,” she said, running her hands over his shoulders. She pressed her soft body against his. Her lips were like velvet and silk. She kissed him, her hands kneading his shoulders. His hands found her tiny waist. Hips that gently curved out.

 _I, Cisco Ramon, am kissing Caitlin Snow_ , Cisco thought. A part of him wondered if she was using him as a rebound. Wondered if it was a dream. If tomorrow she'd wake up and regret.

But for now, she was in his arms. And she'd just said that he could do whatever he wanted with her.

 

Cisco snaked his arms around her back.

He gripped her close, leaning her back. It gave him leverage to unzip her dress. He ran his smooth hands over her back, under her bra. He didn't move to unclasp it. Only touch the skin. She ran her hands back under his shirt, feeling the gentle muscles of his shoulders.

His dick, however, was not soft or gentle. She could feel it straining against the fabric of his khakis. She rubbed her thigh between his legs.

Caitlin broke her lips away just a second. “This would be easier on a bed.”

Cisco hesitated. His hands zipped her up.

“What?” Caitlin demanded. “What's wrong? I thought...I thought you liked me.”

“Caitlin, I'd sell my soul to sleep with you just once,” he said. “But I can't. This isn't me. I can't be your rebound.” He said something in Spanish that sounded like it could be an expletive. He started walking to the door, leaving her alone in the kitchen.

 _But you're not a rebound_ , she thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like it. I wanted to continue.... Alas, I've decided not to continue this one.


	4. Passion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco/Hartley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Hartley/Cisco, Cisco, Hartley, pre-accelerator, racial slur, apology, drunk sex, homosexual sex, oral sex, anal sex

He'd gone too far this time.

Hartley knew from personal experience that one cannot make a crooked arrow straight, so to speak. The reverse was just as true. But this bright young man, this buoyant light was so addictive. It was understandable that he wanted attention from his crush, even if it wasn't positive. If Hartley couldn't have love, he could get passion. Anger was a kind of passion. Not quite what he wanted, but it was close enough.

It translated to being like a little boy pulling on the hair of the girl he liked, or, in this case, on Cisco Ramon's lovely jet locks.

He didn't know what he'd said, but he'd crossed a line. Cisco's fist had broken through the sheet rock next to Hartley's head. Hartley gripped his clipboard close, heart pounding in his throat.

“What did you just call me?” Cisco growled.

“I...don't....know?” Hartley asked. “I thought I asked you for your specs on the detection process. And maybe insinuated that you were slow.”

“No, you called me a 'spec',” Cisco growled.

“I take the blame for calling you slow, but not a...spec,” Hartley said. “What's so offensive about being called a 'specification'?”

Cisco's anger melted into a sort of half-disgust.

“Is that really how you're gunna play this?” he demanded. Hartley closed his eyes.

“There's only one way this ends,” Hartley said. “You're gunna hit me no matter what, so, it may as well be justified.”

“Sure, justify it,” Cisco challenged. Hartley opened his eyes. He lunged, pressing his lips to Cisco's. The clipboard fell to the ground, pen following it.

Cisco tasted like the orange he'd had at lunch. Hartley let go quickly, not wanting to be shoved away.

“Well, now that that's happened,” Hartley said. “I think I'll take my punch now.” Cisco's face was completely blank. Hartley waved a hand in front of him.

“I mean, I'm a good kisser, but I'm not that amazing,” Hartley snorted. He pushed past Cisco. He picked up his coat. “Could you clean this mess up before you leave? I'll deal with the wall tomorrow, just tidy up.” He left quickly, wondering what the gossip would be like in the morning.

 

Not a word.

People talked about the hole in the wall. Who in their right mind would punch a wall at Star Labs? Any of the walls could have cement behind them. Or they might damage electrical wires, killing the person throwing the punches. There were speculations over who'd done it. Hartley was usually involved. But _no one_ even mentioned Cisco. Hartley was grateful for that.

A week went by. Hartley still razzed Cisco. No more or less than usual. But Cisco was less likely to rise to the occasion and bite back. Less passion. Cisco was over it. Over his moment of anger. Over Hartley.

Hartley was in the lab, alone, that Friday night. Everyone else had already gone out to enjoy their nights. It had been a long time since Hartley had stopped going to gay bars. The only ones clean enough for him to enter were too stereotypical. He wanted to be able to go to a clean bookish sort of place for a drink. Was that too much to ask? Apparently in Central City, it was.

Cisco slid into the chair next to Hartley's desk. Hartley jumped, nearly spilling his coffee.

“Jeezus,” Hartley hissed. “Try warning me.”

“Sorry,” Cisco said. “I just...wanted to talk about....last week.”

“I looked up 'spec',” Hartley said. “I do apologize. I had used it as 'specifics', and I apologize for any distress alternative meanings caused you. I will try to be aware of how I phrase things in the future.”

“Hartley Rathaway apologizing,” Cisco chuckled. “Never thought I'd live to see the day... No, I meant...after.”

“You're straight,” Hartley said. It would be easier if he said it before Cisco did. “I don't chase that particular breed. Go free, Cisco, knowing that you haven't hurt my feelings.”

“Particular breed?” Cisco asked.

“Oh, you know. All these new sexualities,” Hartley said, keeping his eyes on his work. “Everyone has to be their own unique snowflake. Me? I prefer good old fashioned 'gay', 'straight', or 'bi'.”

“If you weren't chasing me, why did you kiss me?” Cisco asked.

“Because I'm an ass,” Hartley said, using the terms of his coworkers.

“Do you always work Friday nights?” Cisco asked.

“Always,” Hartley said. Cisco picked up Hartley's coat.

“What are you doing?” Hartley asked.

“Being a friend to you,” Cisco said. “Come on. We're going to buy some booze and then go play Guitar Hero.”

“I can play an actual guitar,” Hartley said. “Why would I play some juvenile game?”

“Because it's a mandatory social convention,” Cisco said, getting his own jacket. “Come on.” Hartley got up. The only thing worse than having a crush on a straight guy was having a crush on a straight guy who wanted to be _best buddies_. Joy. Hartley pulled on his jacket.

 

“How about that guy?” Cisco asked.

Hartley rolled his eyes.

“Cisco, give it a rest,” Hartley sighed. Last week, Hartley had played wingman for Cisco, and his colleague was eager to return the favor. Unlike most people, Hartley got more particular the more intoxicated he was. He put a hand over Cisco's mouth. “There's nobody here.”

They'd been, what, friends? Not at each others' throats, at least, for the past month. Cisco was always dragging Hartley places. Hartley was having a hard time keeping his hands off. He constantly reminded himself that Cisco was straight. There was nothing to be done about it.

 

Hartley hauled the very drunk Cisco out of the elevator.

Out of the two of them, he lived closer. And Hartley didn't trust his own mental map back to Cisco's apartment. He'd just have to deposit Cisco on the couch or something. They came to Hartley's door. As soon as Hartley pulled out his keys, Cisco started giggling like a maniac.

“What is your issue?” Hartley hissed.

“Your hands are tiny!” Cisco laughed. As soon as they were inside, Cisco grabbed his hands.

“They're so soft,” Cisco cooed, placing them on his face. Hartley flushed. Cisco's hands were so rough in comparison. And so much larger. Which was ridiculous because they were both about the same size. Stupid Cisco. Making him laugh. Making him horny. Making him get drunk. Hartley had his hands on Cisco's face, he may as well kiss him.

Everyone else had pushed Hartley's embrace away. His father. His mother. Zach. Brian. Even Harrison kept Hartley at arms' length. But Cisco pulled him in, running a sugary tongue over his lips. His arms wrapped around Hartley, keeping him close as they stumbled towards Hartley's room.

Cisco pushed Hartley down on the bed, clothes and all. He couldn't believe it. Cisco Ramon, digging his hands into his back. Hartley pushed away Cisco's jacket, scrambling to take off that stupid 'All about that bass, no tribble' Star Trek t-shirt. Cisco un-tucked Hartley's shirt, snaking a hand over his chest. The rough fingers caught a nipple, twisting.

Hartley gasped. Cisco's mouth covered his own, devouring the sound. Cisco removed Hartley's shirt tossing it to the floor. Cisco's hands moved to Hartley's belt, fumbling.

“Chastity belt?” Cisco asked. Hartley still Cisco's hands, flipping Cisco onto the bed. Cisco was about to get up, but Hartley pushed him down, one hand going for the box of condoms on the headboard. He fished it out from the one that should be Cisco's size. He unbuttoned those stupid khakis – who wore them any more? Did he think he worked at Target?

Hartley slid the condom on. It was closely followed by his mouth. Cisco groaned. The semi-hard dick firmed as he sucked. Hartley kept at it, undoing his own pants with one hand. And once he was free, he lubed himself up.

Cisco was fully hard by the time Hartley slithered on top.

“Fuck,” Cisco said. “I thought you only ran your mouth.” Hartley chuckled, easing himself onto-

Cisco flipped them over. He seated himself fully inside. Hartley let out a gasp. Cisco was just right. Not one of those huge guys that made him feel like he was being impaled. But he wasn't so small that Hartley knew he wasn't going to get anything out of it. Just right.

And then he was sliding out ever so slowly.

“Oh, come on,” Hartley begged. “ _Get on with it_.”

“Impatient?” Cisco asked. He thrust hard sending delight all the way through him.

“S-so impatient,” Hartley gasped. Cisco thrust again and again, filling Hartley, holding him close, pouring passion into him. Cisco's fingers gripped the short hair at the back of his neck, pulling him in, kissing him. Hartley's dick rubbed against Cisco's pubic bone, exciting him further.

Hartley pulled away, gasping. Cisco only moved down to the sensitive portion of his neck.

“I-I can't hold on,” Hartley whimpered. He could feel the prejaculate already dripping over his stomach. Cisco used his free hand to lift Hartley's hips for leverage, hitting a sweet spot.

Hartley cried out, digging his nails into Cisco's shoulders. He could feel his hot cum all over himself. Cisco thrust once, twice....thrice for good measure. He knelt over Hartley, panting.

 

Hartley woke, head nestled in the crook of Cisco's shoulder.

Cisco's arms were still around him. And, for now, that's all he needed.


	5. Orchid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request by IlariaMoonie: Captain Singh/Hartley Rathaway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't approve/disapprove of prostitution. I know very little about prostitution or what goes on in the heads and hearts of those who have it as their profession. I think it's often glamorized by the media – either as being really amazing or really shitty. That said, I'd like my readers to know that this story was written under the filter that prostitution is nicer than reality.
> 
> I got the title from "Orchids" by Sarah Fimm. Enjoy!
> 
> Tags: David Singh/Hartley Rathaway, prostitution, anal sex, anal fingering, fluff (like, a lot of fluff), oral sex, attempted plot

It was a plain white door, just like all the others on this floor.

It was a nice apartment building. He remembered the owner had built here because it was so close to CCPD. David put a hand to his face, taking a steadying breath. This was a crime, something he'd sworn to protect the public against. But then images of Jason on his knees, a stranger in their apartment – _his_ apartment, it was his name on the lease – came to mind. He steeled himself.

No one was getting hurt. It was a business transaction. He put a hand on the knob, turning.

The apartment inside was...sterile. It was like a lot of crime scenes done by professionals – clean save for the acts committed. Like no one had lived here before the body showed up. It had all the furniture set up, but there were no personal items. Not even a single pair of shoes by the door.

David removed his jacket and shoes, leaving both in the entryway. He crossed the room, sitting down on the couch. It was suspiciously white for a prostitute's pad. He wondered what it would look like if a lab rat used luminol and a black light on it.

Hand touched his shoulders, gently massaging. His heart skipped a few beats.

This guy was supposed to be the best of the best of the slim pickings of male prostitutes in Central City. He paid attention to detail, was discreet, and had an ass that wouldn't quit. He used a combination of in-betweens and snail mail to contact customers. David had been floored by the smoothness of the operation, and the professionalism in wanting details prior. No wonder this guy had never been caught – he couldn't be traced to anything.

“Welcome home,” he purred, warm breath tracing over David's ear and neck. It was one of his deals – the Cumming Home package. He was liking it a lot so far.

David opened his eyes, watching a young, slim man slither over the back of the couch, magically holding two glasses of white wine. He wore a crisp white shirt that nearly blended into the couch and black slacks that stood out in stark contrast. He was ivory, beyond that of a lab rat. He had the skin of a doll. But that wide face with sharp plains – too masculine to be a doll.

What really got him was that David was keenly aware that this was Hartley Rathaway. This kid's face had been plastered all over the news when he'd come out some years ago. He'd been under the impression that Hartley had been a scientist. Maybe this was just for kicks.

Hartley passed him a glass of wine, hand lingering on his own.

“How was your day?” Hartley asked, a little coy. David took a sip of the wine. Sauvignon blanc with something extra. Very floral. So that's why he'd been asked about his drink preferences.

“Long,” David said. “Six homicides. Barry was late to all of them. That kid can process evidence like no tomorrow, but damn if he can show up on time. And Joe always tries to cover for him. It's stupid. Let the kid take some falls every now and again. He might learn something.”

The frustrations were just falling out of his mouth. As he talked, occasionally sipping the wine, two hands found their way onto his shoulders, easing the tension. His fingers were magnetically attracted to all the knots in his back, pressing them out. Hartley smelled fresh, like sandalwood and eucalyptus.

“You do a really great job, David,” Hartley said, smoothing his hands over David's back. He leaned in, voice low. “You're really amazing, you know that? I wish everyone could work as hard as you do.”

The words were so simple. So plain. But they sank into him. He didn't even notice that Hartley had loosened his tie – or his belt. All he was aware of was that he'd gone from stressed to relaxed in a matter of minutes. Pulling away from the feeling just a little, he recognized how good this guy was. David had been caught off guard by the familiarity, the casual touches, the warm welcome, the wine. It was like he'd come home to a fantasy boyfriend.

“I really appreciate you, David,” Hartley assured him, giving him a warm hug. He was as fit as any detective. Maybe even more so.

It was good to feel wanted. To feel like someone genuinely wanted him. So addictive. So seductive. It was tempting beyond the idea of the cream skin that surely lay beneath that shirt. David found himself inhaling the hint of pine that came off Hartley's throat. The young man turned, lips brushing David's cheek.

He could've fucked him then and there, hard and fast, on the couch. But it seemed a waste to guzzle an eighty dollar wine like it was a five dollar shot. Instead, he let Hartley slip between his legs, hands unbuttoning his fly. David could feel a condom sliding over his hard length. Hartley's red lips found the tip of his cock.

Hartley glanced up, green eyes slightly magnified by his glasses. The coy shyness. His hot, wet mouth sliding up and down. The solid pressure. David felt like he would explode then and there. He very nearly did. Until Hartley removed his mouth, sliding a hand over David's slacks.

David leaned down, taking Hartley's face in his hands. Their mouths interlocked. Hartley's mouth tasted like the floral wine he'd served. Hartley pulled him up, leading him deeper into the apartment. The walls were just as white.

The bedroom was dimly lit. Just enough that he could see what was going on without feeling self-conscious. He did note that the bedside table was covered in all sorts of sex paraphernalia. Condoms of all sizes and stocks. A few dental dams. Handcuffs that were padded on the inside. Some vibrators. Lubes of every imagining.

He thought he'd be put off by the idea that other men had been in here. And maybe it did, somewhere inside him. But the idea that Hartley was so clean, methodical to the point of requiring medical records, somehow overcame that.

Hartley slid his hands over David's chest, stepping closer. He could feel Hartley's dick hard against his leg. He stroked that white cheek. Skin like snow. Lips as red as blood. Hair black as the trees of winter.

 

From his thirteen dollar haircut to his ill fitting suit, his two-in-one deodorant-cologne and the olive planes of his face – he wasn't like any customer Hartley had ever had. He wasn't some high-roller who'd caught wind of Hartley. But he wasn't some fifty-dollar blow in the back seat of a car. His eyes were every bit as heavy as his badge and gun. So many times they told him a fantasy job, coming to the apartment in character. This man was not a character.

He was an actual cop.

On the lower end of the income scale, Hartley was more likely to come into contact with an attractive customer, the unhygienic, and those more likely to leave without paying. They were only looking for quick gratification.

Those on the other end of the spectrum tended to be less attractive, bathed regularly, and found money to be of little object. But they felt like they owned him for the time they were allotted. Entitled to take from him what they pleased and subject him to whatever treatment they desired.

The two ends shared one thing in common – neither gave back. Not even a little. They treated him like he wouldn't feel pain when he broke. And once broken, he was to be thrown away.

No one except David.

He gently pushed Hartley onto the bed, nibbling at the skin of his neck. Hartley felt hands on his chest, deftly opening his shirt. The man kissed his way south, occasionally pausing to lick a nipple or suck a hickey onto Hartley's skin. He paused at Hartley's waist, pressing his teeth into the younger man's side only hard enough to make a slight mark.

Hartley gasped, shivers running up his body. David was pulling his pants off, one hand going to the table of toys for a condom. He ripped the packet open, sliding the condom over Hartley's dick.

“You don't have to,” Hartley sighed. He put a hand on David's cheek, making sure to smile coyly. David reached, his arms so much longer than Hartley's, to pull off his glasses. Hartley lay back, watching them go to the table.

He couldn't see David very well, but he could feel a tongue trace from base to tip. David pulled all of Hartley into his mouth. Hartley groaned, restraining his hips from bucking.

When was the last time someone had sucked him off? When was the last time he hadn't _forced_ himself to cum? Or just had sex for the thrill of it?

His pants slid off the rest of the way, a pair of lubed-up fingers finding their way underneath Hartley, prodding him, stretching him. Hartley moaned, gripping the comforter. The fingers dug deeper, exploring. Against his will, his hips shook.

As if punishing him, the mouth was removed from his dick. He could feel David shifting. The man hovered over him, cradling Hartley's head as those fingers pressed hard, sending electricity all over his body. For a moment, there was nothing in the world but the fire on his skin and the fingers in his ass.

When he exhaled, opening his eyes, he realized what David had been doing. He'd been _watching Hartley cum_.

David kissed him, sliding his dick into Hartley's ass slowly. It filled him up. Hartley hummed, barely holding onto the idea that this was a business transaction. That he was supposed to be getting this man off.

It was just good to not feel like someone's outlet for rough sex.

Hartley opened his eyes just a little, finding that David had his own dark eyes were open, watching him. A flush spread over him, prickling from his hairline all the way down to the top of his chest. He turned his face away, lips going down his neck. He could feel himself getting a little hard from the fit body pressed against his own. Maybe just a little from the idea that David got off by him getting off....and in turn that got him off.

Hartley wasn't sure his thoughts made sense any more. Not when the dick in his ass was feeling even better than the fingers David had used. He slid his hands over the broad shoulders. David removed the hand from behind Hartley's head, taking hold of the young man's arm and kissing and sucking his way down it. It was like David was trying to devour all of him, savoring each morsel.

 

-

 

Hartley whimpered.

It was the first time he'd been even slightly rough. David stopped. They'd moved to the bathroom so he could watch in exquisite detail the range of emotion Hartley displayed. Right now, it wasn't pleasant.

“Are you okay?” David asked, not moving. Hartley put a hand to his hipbone. David could see it now. He'd gotten it pinched between the counter and the cabinet below the sink. There was a little bit of blood. Not a lot. But the damage was done. He pulled out, removing the condom.

“I'm fine,” Hartley said. “Are you?”

David shook nodded. “Pain is my turn-off.”

“I'm fine,” Hartley said, shrugging it off. “It was like stubbing a toe.”

“Where's your first aid kit?” David asked. Hartley laughed.

“It's a scratch,” Hartley said. David shook his head, cupping Hartley's face.

“Imagine that you're holding a white orchid in your hand,” David said. “And you know that if you rip a petal, it will heal, but it will scar. How could you bear to damage something so lovely?”

He hadn't meant to cause embarrassment, but Hartley flushed all over his face and across his chest. His ears were even a little purple on the edges. David stroked Hartley's back, a little aroused by the look of the young man looking down.

Hartley went down, pulling a small pouch from beneath the sink. He removed the contents.

David swabbed the area with hydrogen peroxide. Hartley hissed, making his hand hesitate.

“Sorry,” Hartley said. “I didn't anyone could be so adverse to pain.”

David sighed, grabbing the antibiotic ointment. He noted that Hartley had a cream that was supposed to reduce the severity of bruises. It was a huge tube of it, nearly gone. How many times a week did that have to be applied?

“Some pain is necessary – like for healing. There are the natural pains of life, of growth. But pain simply for the sake of pain is...pointless,” David said. He lay a bandage over the scrape.

“I feel a million miles over the moon,” Hartley said, a hint of sarcasm, coy smile on his face. He hopped up onto the granite counter while David packed the first aid away.

“A real cop in my bathroom,” Hartley said, licking his lips. His tone was casual enough. David sighed, tossing the first aid back under the sink.

“A 'real cop'?” David snorted. “As opposed to what?” Was this kid trying to call him dirty? Just because he broke the rules once? He would bet his salary this kid was in possession of pirated goods, maybe some drugs – Ritalin or something.

“A fantasy cop,” Hartley said, rolling his eyes. “How soon is vice gunna bust down my door?”

“I really hope they don't,” David said. So Hartley thought it was a sting. “I'd probably loose my job right there on the spot.” He leaned against the counter. Hartley slid his hands over David's shoulders, kneading the tough muscles of his lower neck.

“I don't always stay current with the gay community,” David said. “I'm a little too busy staying current with the crime community. But Hartley Rathaway being gay was sort of a big deal.” Hartley's hands paused for just a second. They continued.

“So?” Hartley asked.

“So why is a kid who's got literally everything going for him in the sex trade?” David asked. “I mean, you're...beautiful, you're smart enough that you had one Dr. Wells spouting your praises to me, great in bed. I mean, I guess I'm trying to wrap my head around you...here.” Hartley could be anything. A model or actor. A world-renowned scientist. A trophy husband. Why sell his body?

Hartley let out a huff.

“It's hard to get work when Star Labs is the only job you've had for five years and before that you were in school,” Hartley said. “No one wants anything to do with Star Labs. Leaving it off raises questions as to what I've been up to for the last five years. So I could only get minimum wage, and no one can survive on that. I got desperate. And once I thought it out, I became a businessman.

“Your turn. Why does a cop come to a prostitute and not bring vice with him?” Hartley asked.

David broke out of Hartley's hands, turning to slide between his legs. He traced Hartley's abs.

“My boyfriend of three years cheated on me,” he said. “In _my_ house. In _my_ bed. I know what a relationship with a cop can be like. It's hard. It takes work to be a cop and to love a cop. But he didn't want to work at it. And I didn't want to play games in a bar.”

Hartley swallowed. “I know this is really off topic, but under what context were you talking to Harrison Wells?”

David shut his eyes, trying to think. There were those consultations, and he'd had to call Dr. Wells a few times. But he couldn't quite remember when Dr. Wells had given his speech.

“Probably during a consultation,” David said. “Star Labs has been doing a lot of collaboration with the police recently. I have to hover over Barry or he'll start wasting time. He goes _so slow_.” David started rubbing his temples. Cool hands slid under his, taking over.

“You know what I want to do right now?” David asked.

“Talk?” Hartley asked. David shook his head.

 

-

 

Hartley had started being able to pick which customers would like what.

There were those who liked to cuddle after sex and those who vehemently hated it. Some liked to have long talks while others stayed silent and smoked by the window. He could now gauge how hard a woman wanted to be fucked by the way she kissed him. And he could tell how dark a man's fetishes were by the way he eyed the room.

David Singh wasn't any of the above. He was a cuddle _monster_. He had Hartley tucked between his legs and under his chin. His arms wrapped around him as they watched a cooking show. Hartley used the TV only for watching the news and a forensic documentaries every now and again. He was glad he had it tonight.

After an episode, there was a light snore from behind him. He shifted. David was out. Hartley shut the TV off with the remote, slithering out of David's arms. He shifted the blankets, tucking the two of them in.

Idly, he mused about what his work would've been like if David had been a regular. But now it was too late. This last job put him at his goal. His lease was up in a few days. Start his new job next week. Although, he'd probably see a lot of David from now on. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

 

-

-

-

 

David ran a hand through his hair.

Barry was babbling again in that foreign scientific language he knew. It was purportedly relevant to the topic at hand, but he was having great difficulty paying attention. His mind kept listing to that sanitary apartment in the sky – an apartment that was now empty and as clean as a whistle. No fingerprints. No DNA. No cameras. And Hartley's contacts had all gone dark.

Joe poked his head in. Barry's blathering cut off.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Joe said, words that were manna from heaven. “The new forensic assistant is here.” That was right. Barry's sloth had spurred him to hire another forensic assistant. He'd thrown some requirements like 'punctual' and 'efficient' at HR and left them to it. This guy was early – an optimistic start.

“Send him in,” David said, turning away for just a second. Just a second to clear his head. There were so many cases. So much scientific information to process. When he turned back, he met eyes with none other than Hartley Rathaway.

Hartley hesitated just a moment – long enough for Eddie, Joe, and Barry to all see it. But he kept walking, a hand out.

“Nice to meet you, Captain,” he said, holding out a hand. David took the silken hand, shaking firmly.

“Nice to meet you,” he said brusquely. Hartley turned, taking in Barry's board.

“How long has he been trying to explain this to you?” Hartley asked.

“Too long,” David said.

“The water caused the road to be slick. The speed and direction the car was moving wouldn't produce enough force to break the railing, even if the breaks were off,” Hartley said. “The most likely cause of the accident is that someone loosened the railing.”

“Sounds like homicide to me,” David said, handing the case to Eddie. “Barry, if you could show Hartley the lab.” Barry did as he was asked, escorting Hartley out. Eddie and Joe converged on David's desk.

“Don't you gentlemen have a homicide to solve?” David asked, glaring at the two of them.

“We were just noting that you were never told our new assistant's name,” Joe said. “So how did you know it?”

“Hartley Rathaway is a very prominent name in the gay community,” David said. “You caught me. Sometimes I actually care what goes on.”

“He sure looked like he knew you,” Eddie said, crossing his arms, smile on his face. David stood.

“I think it's time for the two of you to go do your jobs,” David snapped. Joe and Eddie nodded. Eddie held up his hands in surrender.

“You're right,” Eddie said.

“Yeah. Hey, Eddie, did you know Barry's bi?” Joe asked, starting to head out. Eddie followed. “He leans towards the ladies, but a cute guy like Hartley is sure to draw his eye.”

“Really?” Eddie asked, mock-shocked. They shut the door. David put his face in his hands. The smell of sandalwood and eucalyptus clung to his right hand. He wondered if Hartley still had the bandage on his hip. Wondered if he was reconsidering his position as forensic assistant. Wondered if he'd get a chance to run his hands over that smooth ivory skin again.


	6. Melt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin/Cisco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Caitlin/Cisco, oral sex, workplace sex

“Any luck?” Caitlin asked, leaning over Cisco's shoulder to check his progress.

“None,” he sighed, turning a jolly rancher over in his mouth. Caitlin inhaled, trying not to be too obvious. She really couldn't help it. Cisco had recently moved into a tiny flat above a patisserie. Every day he came in smelling like tarts and cake.

“If we knew how he melts this stuff, we could better understand how to contain him,” Cisco said. This meta could liquefy anything. Wood. Metal. Plastic. Flesh. Before they could catch someone like that, first they needed a containment system.

“We'll figure it out,” Caitlin said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Why don't we take a break. Get some dinner.”

“Sure,” Cisco grumbled, getting up. He stretched, shirt riding up just enough that Caitlin caught a flash of cinnamon stomach. She flushed, looking away. “Do you think density effects his powers?”

“Maybe,” Caitlin said.

 

Cisco wiped his mouth.

He was glad they'd ordered take-out. Although, Caitlin didn't seem to like drinking wine out of the Styrofoam cups from the break room. She circled the rim with her long fingers.

Cisco noticed that she didn't do her nails. She paid close attention to detail in all parts of her life: work, clothes, relationships. It seemed a bit odd that she'd go to such lengths to dress up every day at work and then not do her nails. Did she find it too much hassle? Too expensive? Tacky? Too much?

“What?” Caitlin laughed. “You look so serious.”

“Just...contemplating the little things in life that keep me up at night,” Cisco said. “The mysteries of the universe that fascinate me.”

“Like what?” Caitlin asked, leaning in.

 _Like what you think of me_ , Cisco thought. _If it's okay to hit on my dead best friend's fiance. How many months more I'll pine for you before I go insane. How many more touches it takes before I have to be carted to the loony bin._

“Like how meta-humans really got their powers,” Cisco said. “Was it just the x-elements? The dark matter? If it was a combination of the two, in what ratio? And why are some people effected but not others?”

Caitlin giggled.

“What?” Cisco asked. Did he say something stupid? Her smile faded. She looked down at her hands.

“I – when Ronnie died, I didn't think I'd ever recover,” she said. “And you kept being happy and funny...and I thought you were being disrespectful. But then I realized that you were trying to keep everyone's spirits up. And I've been leaning on you so hard. I've been...depending on you to get me through the days.”

Cisco reached out, capturing her hands in his.

“I'm here for you,” he said. “I'm always here for you.” He wished he'd sat further from her. Maybe some distance would keep him from closing what little there was between them.

“I don't want to ruin our friendship,” Caitlin sniffed. “I don't want to loose you.”

“You can't loose me,” Cisco said. “I love you.” Too late, he realized his mistake.

“What I mean is, like, love you...like...,” he sputtered, trying to keep things from going bad to worse. And Caitlin's wide eyes were so distracting. And, jeezus, he was still holding her hands-

“Cisco?” Caitlin asked.

“Yeah?” he asked.

She leaned over, kissing him.

 

Caitlin could feel his hesitation.

He wasn't moving, but she could feel something sparking under his skin. She pulled back, staring into his eyes. Those dark, warm eyes. His eyelashes were so long that she was actually a little envious. And his lips were every bit as soft as she'd imagined.

Cisco caught on, pulling her back into the kiss.

Even though she was moved on from Ronnie, she couldn't help but compare the two. Both smart. Both funny. Where Ronnie was warm and kind and obviously handsome, Cisco was...subtle. He was someone you immediately liked but wasn't sure why. He wasn't quite handsome. More of a...masculine beauty. Something Caitlin was in awe of.

Something she hadn't expected was how strong Cisco was. One moment, she was kissing him, his hands resting gently on her hips, the next she was being lifted onto his lap. He rested her there. Her body was pressed ever so lightly against his.

Once, a long time ago, she'd been like this with Ronnie. Making out late at night in the break room. The force of the thought made her loose balance. She started falling off Cisco's lap.

Again, Cisco displayed more strength than he appeared. He caught her, bracing her back with one arm. Just like he always did, Cisco kept her from falling. Now she gripped him back, clinging to his solidity. Depending solely on him to keep her upright.

She couldn't help but notice that his free hand traced the hem of her dress. She smiled through the kisses, sitting up enough that he wasn't bracing the majority of her weight with one arm any more. Caitlin took his hand, sliding his fingers under the edge. Cisco pulled away just a little.

“Is this okay?” Cisco panted. His face was flushed.

“Yeah,” Caitlin said. He bit his lip, not moving his hand any further up her leg than what she'd pushed them to. “What's wrong?”

“I – I don't want to touch you if I can't...behave myself,” Cisco said.

“What do you mean?” Caitlin asked.

“I don't want to accidentally step further than you're okay with,” Cisco said.

“What did you have in mind?”

 

Caitlin's fingers twined in his hair.

Cisco licked her from the back of the vulva all the way to the clit. Caitlin gasped. She was so delicious. He sucked on her clit until her legs shook.

“Cisco,” Caitlin gasped. He stopped, taking her in. Hair splayed across the break room table. Dress up around her hips and panties around one ankle. But most importantly, she hadn't gotten weird when he'd told her what he wanted.

“You like it?” he asked, slipping a finger in.

“Yes,” Caitlin moaned. “Oh, Cisco.”

She was pushing him over the edge. Cisco slipped his free hand down, taking himself in hand. She was so sweet. Like bubblegum. And soft like gum, too. Silken. He peeked up at Caitlin's open-mouthed ecstasy. Both hands were met with a little extra wetness.

Caitlin gave a succession of gasps, her hands tightening in his hair. Cisco bore down on her, curling the finger inside. She cried out, all the tension leaving her body at once. Cisco licked her once more, feeling rather smug as she twitched again.

Slowly, Caitlin pulled herself upright.

“What about you?” she asked. Cisco shrugged. He didn't want to bring up his usual mode of operation. Caitlin hopped off the table.

“Switch places,” she said, patting where she'd been.

“Really?” Cisco asked. He stood, leaning back on the table. She wasn't going to like this. He wasn't circumcised, something that had been a cock-block when it came to oral from so many women. Even though he adored oral – giving it, taking it – rejection deterred him from even asking.

Caitlin didn't flinch from the sight of retracted foreskin. Instead, she kissed it, sending shocks throughout his body. The table groaned from the pressure exerted from his grip. Caitlin dragged her slick tongue over his dick. As she worked the tip, she glanced up at him, coy.

 _Is this really happening?_ Cisco wondered. He was in the break room, propped up on the table, pants down, and Caitlin on her knees. She was taking more of him into her mouth. She added suction, bobbing her head. He was pretty sure he was going to melt into a puddle.

Caitlin steadied herself by holding his hipbone. Cisco choked.

“Cait, Cait,” Cisco gasped, trying to warn her. She was too slow, getting the bulk of the load in her mouth. The rest got on her dress.

“Sorry,” Cisco panted. Caitlin grabbed a napkin, spitting into it.

“That's fine,” she said. She stood, kissing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcannon for the show: Instead of being Killer Frost, Caitlin becomes Firehawk.


	7. Cold Gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request by CW Maddy: Barry + Leonard + cold gun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Masochism, homosexual sex, anal sex, role reversal, car sex, cheating, oral sex, Dom!Snart, Masochist!Barry
> 
> (Star Labs switched with Mercury Labs; Cisco with Hartley; Caitlin with Ronnie; Dr. Wells with Tina McGee; Barry with Leonard)

Snart pushed the Flash against the wall, sliding the cuffs on.

“You're not going to frisk me?” the Flash asked, indignant. “I could be carrying drugs.”

“Yeah, where you're going, you'll want those,” Snart said. The lean body of the Flash started vibrating. Snart aimed the gun again, freezing the Flash's legs from above his ankles to his knees.

“Whoo!” the kid exclaimed. “That's brisk!” The handcuffs held in the vibrations. Maybe Hartley had finally made something that could contain this guy.

“Officer Steamy'n'dreamy, I'd like to inform you that I am armed,” the Flash said, turning a little to wink, the big fucking flirt.

“Your arms as guns,” Snart said dryly, chipping away ice on the the slab of material Hartley had created. It was able to be frozen on top without sticking to whatever it was laying on, but Hartley hadn't accounted for overflow ice. “How original.”

“No,” the Flash chuckled. “Just one gun. And it's loaded.”

Snart flushed. He reminded himself of Mick at home, waiting up patiently. And this stupid punk was almost certainly a minor. Who else would rob a candy store? Flash wasn't even his type. He was a criminal. There were so many reasons that even considering this was a bad idea.

He finally pulled the slab of material up, tilting the Flash forward.

“Careful!” he yelped.

“You're fine,” Snart said, pulling the slab onto a little cart. It was ridiculously low-tech, but it was the best way to tote a frozen speedster around.

“I'm scared,” Flash whined. “Hold me.” Snart rolled his eyes. He pulled Flash into the alley where his car was. The slab was just small enough that he could fit it on the floor of the front seat. Flash got in without any fuss, settling in like a pleased cat. Snart walked around the front of the car, wondering what the kid was up to.

“If you vibrate fast enough to catch my car on fire, I'll freeze your dick to a pole,” Snart warned.

“Promise?” Flash asked, leaning in. Snart could see his face almost clearly – except for the mask. He wasn't disguising his voice or vibrating his face like usual. He wore a boyish grin and mischievous eyes.

Snart turned away, heart throbbing in his throat. He grabbed for the keys, still in the ignition. He turned them. Nothing. Not even the engine struggling to turn over. He tried again. Still, nothing. He popped the hood, getting out to check.

It only took him a glance to know what was wrong. He slammed the hood shut and got back in.

“You stole my engine,” Snart accused.

“ _Moi_?” Flash asked, mock-appalled. “ _I've_ been running around, being chased by some big, bad mean cop for the last hour. Poor little Flash. All alone with his candy riches.”

“Where is it, Flash?” Snart demanded.

“Oh, Leonard, we've known each other for a year now. I think it's time we use first names,” Flash said. “How about you call me...oh, say, Barry. That's a good name.”

Snart leveled the cold gun at Flash's head.

“Engine. Now,” he snapped.

“Citizen Cold all hot under the collar,” Flash said. “Was it the engine? Or _Leonard_?”

Snart pulled the trigger. The gun sputtered. He checked the side. One of the lines had been disconnected. He'd literally used it less than five minutes ago. He moved to plug it back in.

A red leg slipped over his lap. The Flash was heavier than Snart had expected. He moved to strike the boy, but his arms were slammed back. The cold gun fell into the back seat.

Flash licked Snart's lower lip, biting in. Drawing just a little blood. Snart could feel either a cell phone or a dick. No, that was definitely an erection on his leg. And one from the Flash's pants. Shit.

“I've seen you, Leonard,” Flash murmured, green eyes half-lidded, ike a snake. “He always makes you take it. Never lets you give it. I know you want to be inside. Maybe not every time. But sometimes you want to be the one being ridden.”

“Fuck off,” Snart said, straining against the hands that constricted him. The Flash was stronger than he appeared.

“I'd rather fuck you,” Flash breathed.

 

He was hot.

Hot in all the ways Mick wasn't, couldn't be. The Flash wasn't a forest fire, consuming all things in its path. He was a bolt from the blue. Divine ignition.

They were tangled in the backseat, the Flash's costume mostly gone, and Snart's shirt unbuttoned. His pants needed removal. Now. Between the Flash's height and Leonard's bulk, they needed more room than the backseat of a car. But where were they going to go? Some seedy hotel? Back to Leonard's place?

But, somehow, the Flash managed to unbutton Snart's pants. Snart could see the intent in the kid's eyes as he pulled the fly open. There was a shifting, pushing Snart up against the window and folding Flash into a ball on the floor. Flash slid Snart's dick out, running a warm hand over the length. The hand buzzed gently, bringing a whole new experience.

“Try that with your mouth, kid,” Snart gasped. Flash grinned, a wicked fire burning in his eyes.

“Do what with my mouth?” he asked, leaning closer towards the erection. He hovered close without touching. Snart grabbed a handful of Flash's chestnut hair.

“Don't waste my time,” Snart hissed. Flash bit his lower lip, moaning. “Either do it or leave.” Flash leaned over, a hand still in his hair, and swallowed as much of Snart as he could. It wasn't quite to the base, but almost. Snart took a chance, going with his gut.

He flicked Flash's ear. “All the way, kid.” Flash shivered, a little sigh coming out of his throat, vibrating along Snart's cock.

Flash swallowed him up to the base, gagging as he did so. He didn't move, only vibrating at different speeds. Snart held onto Flash's hair, dumping his load down that slim throat. When he let go, Flash fell back, gasping. His cheeks were flushed, but so was his chest. Snart reached over, pinching a nipple with one hand.

Flash gasped, less for air and more out of surprise.

“I knew you were a flirt, but I didn't know you were so...lewd,” Snart said. Flash flushed. Oh, his suspicions were dead-on.

“W-what are you? An - an eighty year old man?” Flash stuttered, not meeting Snart's eye. Snart grabbed the hair on the other side of Flash's head, forcing him to look his way.

“You're a real pervert, you know that? A real masochist,” Snart murmured. Flash panted, pulling gently away from Snart's grips.

“So you'll do me hard?” Flash asked.

“On one condition,” Snart said.

“Please,” Flash begged. “Anything.”

“Your name. Your real name,” Snart said, trailing the hand off Flash's chest and down to his pants. He squeezed the straining leather a tweak too rough. Flash's hips bucked as he whimpered.

“B-Barry. Barry Allen,” he choked. “Leonard, please.”

“Call me that again and I'll send you home,” Snart snapped, tugging that silken hair.

“Yes, sir,” Barry gasped. Snart pulled his hands away. Barry pouted like the kid he was. It didn't matter if he was sixteen or sixty. He'd always be a hellion child.

Snart made room for Barry on the back seat. He faced away, red leather taught across his ass. Snart slapped the left cheek eliciting a gasp. From where he sat, he could see the front of the pants stretched just as tight. He reached around, trying to find the zipper. Barry fumbled, unzipping the sides.

“I didn't tell you to move,” Snart said, slapping the other cheek. Barry groaned, a shiver shaking his body, turning into a buzzing like a sex toy. An apt description for what Snart was going to make of him. He slipped Barry's pants down.

Snart traced the curve of the light gold ass with his chilly fingers. He licked the middle finger on his left hand. He stuck it in, watching as Barry's hips bucked. Snart slapped the right cheek again.

“Don't move,” Snart warned, grin forming. He leaned over, biting one side of Barry's ass.

“Oh,” Barry whimpered. “This isn't fair.” Snart slipped his index finger in dry. The speedster came a little, panting.

“You begged me for this,” Snart reminded him, pulling his fingers out. He replaced them with his dick, still slick with Barry's saliva.

“Look at the Flash, getting all bent out of shape over my dick,” Snart murmured at Barry's tremors. He pressed the speedster's hands to the window, rocking his hips as he did.

It was like the blowjob, only so much better. Barry wanted all that Snart would give him, and Citizen Cold was more than happy to oblige. More than happy to slam Barry so hard that his hipbones felt like they might splinter against the vibrating body.

“S-snart,” Barry panted. It felt like his speed was sputtering out. Like the kid was loosing control over his power. Snart reached around, grabbing the dangling dick between Barry's leg. He squeezed.

“Not until I'm done,” Snart growled.

“You just want everyone on the same schedule,” Barry teased. The joke held less humor when the Flash had his face pressed against the inside of Snart's window and he was panting for air. Completely at Snart's mercy.

He took his time, slowing down, letting the vibrations take him. They pulsed around him, pulling him in deeper until he thought he was going to melt from the heat of it all. He almost forgot to let Barry go as he came. The speedster's cum shot into his hand, hot as his ass.

The next thing he knew, Barry was turned around, kissing him gently on the lips. With a rush of wind, he was gone, door slamming shut behind him.

Snart dropped onto his elbows.

 _I've been played_ , he realized. He'd completely deviated from the plan. He let himself get distracted by an errant desire and a cute smile. And now he had a pile of melting ice in the passenger side of his car, a broken gun, a meta-human on the loose, and a boyfriend who might burn the apartment complex down.

 _Why did it have to be sex?_ Snart lamented. Barry didn't have to use sex. He could've distracted Snart with a piece of gold. Or a live penguin from the Central City Zoo. Or a stuffed penguin, really.

Snart sat up, zipping his fly. No use laying around, waiting for Ronnie and Hartley to come looking for him. Snart licked his lips, tasting peppermint. That kiss at the end-

Barry had meant to distract him, right? To get Snart in a position that he was easy to get away from. But, if that was the case, Barry had been free from the moment Snart got out to check the engine. He could've escaped then.

Snart ran a hand through his hair, sighing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Everysyllableaspark for proofing this for me!
> 
> Thank you all for reading!


	8. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request by clarissimo: Hartley/Cisco + Bivolo's power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: mildly dubious consent, Hartley/Cisco

Cisco’s eyes watered.

“I guess his power doesn’t effect the eyes at all,” Caitlin said. “Feeling angry or frustrated?”

“No,” Cisco said. “I feel fine. And I didn’t even see red. I saw green.”

“What emotion is green?” Barry snorted. “Calmness?”

“They say jealousy is the green-eyed monster,” Dr. Wells offered. “Does that shake anything loose?”

Cisco shrugged. “Not really. I’m super craving mint chip right now, though-”

Barry was gone and back in a second. He held out a frost pint of it. Cisco took it, ripping the lid off with his teeth as he rifled through his desk for a spoon. He dug in, moaning at the first bite.

“So...what?” Barry asked. “I got rage and he gets the munchies?”

“Barry, I think Mr. Bivolo has proved his powers far exceed wanting ice cream,” Dr. Wells said. “We’re dealing with an entirely different beast. Rage can be spent. Desire is a depthless hole that cannot be filled. I’m guessing that Cisco’s desires will escalate quickly.”

 

  
  
Desire rippled through Cisco's body.

It ripped and clawed at him, spread heat and fire over his mind. He tried to feed it, to satisfy the monster.

Those grey-blue eyes called to Cisco, beconing him close. For the dimpled smile that only showed itself when it was just the two of them. The endless stream of words explaining that Hartley was right filled Cisco's mind.

Cisco knew he wasn't going to get away so easily. Not with Barry watching him. If he could knock Barry out for a minimum of three minutes, he could escape to those mesmerizing eyes.

  
Hartley pulled his robe around himself tighter.

The pounding at the door made him jump.

“I’m almost there,” Hartley grouched, running a hand through his hair. He tightened the robe around his waist.

Hartley peered into the peephole. Cisco was there, arms braced against the doorframe, panting. A trickle of sweat dripped down the side of his face, as though he’d run here.

For a moment, Hartley found himself torn between wanting to thank a higher power or curse it. Those two years spent exchanged loaded glances and shy, awkward touches had driven Hartley mad. Cisco was a coworker, and Hartley didn't mix business and pleasure no matter how much it looked like the other seemed to want it too.

And then he'd left, and Cisco hadn't even bothered to call.

He unlocked the bolt.

“It’s three AM,” Hartley said. “Why are you here?” Cisco ignored him, pushing his way into the dark apartment. Hartley rolled his eyes, shutting the door. The drama was strong in this one.

“Cisco, what the hell is going on?” Hartley demanded, turning.

He ran right into Cisco's side. His dick throbbed in his boxers. Cisco’s hands gripped Hartley’s waist. Hartley found himself backed against the door, Cisco’s hips digging into his own. The sweet smell of Ande’s mints washed across his face. Hartley could choke on the heart in his throat. Maybe, if he was lucky, he might choke on something else.

"I want you," Cisco said.

Tentatively, Hartley leaned in, pressing his lips against Cisco’s. He ran his fingers through the soft jet locks.

Cisco’s hands fumbled with the robe belt. He ran a calloused hand over Hartley’s stomach, traveling to the small of Hartley’s back. He gripped Hartley close, sweetness escaping with every breath.

Hartley pulled away. "Are you sure you want this?"

"I have spent three fucking years wanting this," Cisco growled, a hand sliding up Hartley's back, bringing them closer.  


Hartley's skin nearly glowed in the moonlight.

Cisco tossed his shirt over his shoulder to accompany the hoodie, wherever that had ended up. Hartley worked at his fly, loosening his slacks. Those soft hands slid into his boxers, wrapping around him, pulling him out. Cisco groaned, gripping Hartley's shoulders for support.

Hartley took that as a sign to lean back. His other hand guided Cisco down to settle between those ivory legs. Their cocks stood parallel to one another in Hartley's hands. Cisco stared into those blue-green eyes. They were almost grey in the moonlight. When they kissed, Hartley tasted of toothpaste and half a night of sleep.

Cisco shifted his weight, pushing into Hartley's grip. The friction sent a thrill through him. Hartley's moan told him that he wasn't the only one. He braced his arms against the headboard, doing it again. Hartley's hands faltered for a second but kept going in time with Cisco.

It was just them in the moonlight. No people staring at them. No worries of social conduct. No little voices in the back of Cisco's head telling him that making a move was a bad idea. It was Cisco, Hartley, and the moon. That was all there needed to be. That was all he could ever ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure how to...ahem, finish this.  
> (I really knew what I wanted to do. I just wanted to use that pun. lol)


	9. Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leonard/Hartley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Hartley/Snart, Hartley, Leonard, phone sex, dom/sub, Hartley!sub, Snart!dom, oral sex, anal sex, anal fingering
> 
>  
> 
> For my wonderful editor. Thank you very much. :)

"What time are you coming over again?" Snart asked, leaning on the wall next to Hartley.  
  
"I wasn't aware that I was going anywhere tonight," Hartley said, staring at his gloves. He made very minor adjustments, hoping that Snart didn't notice how unimportant the changes were.  
  
Snart trailed a finger over Hartley's bare forearm. "Oh, you were. You were coming to my house. I thought seven, but maybe it's six. We should probably have dinner beforehand."  
  
It was some of the weakest flirting Hartley had ever encountered. Even Cisco's stupid puns were better than this. Hartley walked away from Snart.  
  
"I can't," Hartley said, returning the lame flirting with a retort of equal measure. "I'm washing my hair tonight."  
  
  
The phone chirped for the fifth time.  
  
Hartley picked it up, checking the number. 'Unknown', again. He dropped his phone to the side. Unless they left a message, it wasn't worth picking up or calling back for. Apparently, 'Gerard L. Moyer' had skipped bail more than once, and he'd since dropped his old number. Which Hartley had the misfortune of picking up.  
  
He'd explained to the bounty hunters over and over again that he'd owned this phone number for over eight years. He didn't even know anyone by the last name of Moyer. If he did, he'd direct the hunters to them. But they just. Kept. Calling.  
  
This time, 'Unknown' left a message. Hartley called his voicemail.  
  
"Hartley, answer your damn phone," Snart growled. "I'm calling back in two minutes, and if you don't answer your phone, I'm coming to your apartment and breaking the door down."  
  
Hartley flushed.  
  
How had Snart gotten a hold of his number? Hartley specifically used a burner phone with the others. He didn't even bring this one with him when he met the other Rogues. The only people who should know about this number were people from Star, his parents, and a team of overzealous bounty hunters.  
  
Sure enough, in two minutes, 'Unknown' called again. Hartley picked up.  
  
"What is it, Snart?" Hartley asked.  
  
"Did you wash your hair, yet?" Snart asked.  
  
"I'm getting to it," Hartley said dryly, inspecting his nails.  
  
"You haven't hopped in the shower yet?" Snart asked.  
  
"What, you want to join me?" Hartley laughed. Oh, this was so rich. He could imagine Snart on that black leather sofa, wearing only his boxers, phone to his ear. Those abs flexed in anticipation.  
  
"No, I want you to tell me what you're wearing," Snart said, his voice low and rough. Tingles ran over Hartley's back and across his scalp. He was reminded of Cisco purring orders to him in Spanish. Hartley's stomach clenched.  
  
"Um, pajamas," Hartley said, his voice breaking.  
  
"Start with your feet," Snart said. "And move upwards."  
  
"Uh, white socks," Hartley said. "There's a hole in the bottom of one. I'm wearing my blue and white striped pajama bottoms. They're really ragged at the ankles."  
  
He stopped, realizing that his idea of pajamas consisted of socks and pants. Hartley hung up and threw the phone across the couch, feeling the heat of his flush hit him mid-chest. His ears were absolutely burning. He put his hands to them so his cool hands would absorb some of the heat.  
  
His phone rang.  
  
Don't pick it up, Hartley thought. But he kept thinking of Snart in a pair of blue boxers on that sofa. He picked up on the third ring.  
  
"You're not allowed to hang up," Snart said. "You were on your pants."  
  
"I'm wearing a pink shirt that says 'California'," Hartley lied. Well, he'd been wearing it earlier. It was discarded on his ottoman. "It has a picture of a heart on it." It had been a gift from a very whimsical ex.  
  
"Don't lie to me, Hartley," Snart said. "What are you wearing?"  
  
"I'm not wearing a shirt, okay?" Hartley snapped. "And all my sour cream flab is-"  
  
"You're not fat," Snart interrupted. "I've seen you at the gym. Start over from your pants."  
  
Hartley's heart jumped into his throat.  
  
"I'm wearing blue and white striped pajama pants that are ripped at the ankle," Hartley said. "I'm shirtless. My skin is as white as the moon. My moles are like drops of violet blood."  
  
"Better," Snart purred. "Much better, Hartley. Now, I want you to slide your pants down around your ankles."  
  
Hartley's cooling flush flared to life.  
  
"I- what is this?" Hartley choked, knowing full well what they were doing.  
  
"Do it or I'm hanging up," Snart said, his voice completely emotionless. Hartley chewed his lip. He did as he'd been told.  
  
"Okay," Harltey said. "My pants are around my ankles. Now I'm in my blue and green plaid boxers."  
  
"Pull your dick out of your boxers," he ordered. Mesmerized, Hartley did so. "Describe yourself to me. No negative adjectives."  
  
"I'm...about six inches long," Hartley said, shivering. "Erect. Uh...about an inch or so in diameter. Sort of...flat? Circumcised."  
  
"Mmmmm," Snart hummed. "Good job, Hartley. Good night."  
  
There was nothing on the other end. Hartley panted, realizing that he'd been holding his breath.  
  
  
The next day, when the Rogues met, Snart acted like his normal self throughout the whole meeting.  
  
Hartley wondered if he'd messed up. Of course he had. He was a walking thesaurus and he was so nervous that he used the word 'um'. It wasn't even a word. It was a filler. Hartley Rathaway did not use fillers.  
  
When they disbanded for their day jobs, Snart pulled Hartley aside.  
  
Hartley found himself pushed face-first into a wall. Snart's arms were on either side of his head. Snart's body hovered close but didn't touch.  
  
"You did a very, very good job last night," Snart murmured. "I liked it very much. So much that I'm going to call again."  
  
"Tonight?" Hartley asked.  
  
"I want it to be tonight," Snart said. "I want you to be free at nine for my call."  
  
"I'm free at nine," Hartley said. He would be off at seven thirty. He could be ready by nine. On his way home from work, he'd buy one of those microwave meals.  
  
  
Hartley picked the phone up on the first ring.  
  
"Hello?" he asked.  
  
"Hello, is this Gerard-," a woman said. Hartley hung up. He really hated these people. And they wouldn't tell him which bail bondsman company it was so he could go clear it up in person. What if Gerard forgot that he owed money? Or who he owed money to? How was he supposed to get that cleared up?  
  
A moment later, the phone rang.  
  
"Hello?" Hartley asked. He wasn't stupid enough to yell. This was certainly Snart.  
  
"Why was the line busy a moment ago?" Snart demanded.  
  
"Annoying bail bondsman looking for someone not myself," Hartley answered. "What would be on the agenda for the evening?"  
  
"We're taking a field trip to the bathroom," Snart said. "Do you have a tub?"  
  
"Yes," Hartley said.  
  
"Start filling it with water and then return to the room prior," Snart said. Hartley held the phone between his shoulder and ear as he turned the water on and tested the temperature. When it was to his satisfaction, he plugged the drain and went back to the living room.  
  
"Okay," Hartley said. "What now?"  
  
"What are you wearing?" Snart said. Hartley assumed the rules were the same as last night. If they weren't...well, there were going to be problems.  
  
"The same socks from yesterday," Hartley said. "The ones with the hole on the bottom of one. Another set of blue pajama pants. These ones have a bamboo pattern in green on them. There's a hole in one knee and the seams are fraying. My shirt is brown. No decorations on it. It has a v-neck."  
  
"And your underwear?" Snart asked.  
  
"Um," Hartley said, pulling the pajama pants away just enough to see what he actually was wearing. He flushed. "I'm...wearing the same ones from yesterday. I forgot to change this morning."  
  
"Mmhmm," Snart hummed. "Tell me, did you masterbate after I hung up?"  
  
"Maybe," Hartley said. "Yes. Yes. I did."  
  
"Did you get cum on them?" Snart asked.  
  
"Yeah," Hartley panted. He'd been wearing his cum all day. Had anyone been able to smell that? Now that he thought about it, Bivolo might've.  
  
Snart was silent on the phone for a moment.  
  
"I like that," he said. "Go check on the water."  
  
Hartley stumbled back into the bathroom. The tub wasn't even half full. He related this information to Snart.  
  
"I guess we'll wait in a different room, then," Snart said. Hartley returned to the living room. What was the water for? Was he taking a bath?  
  
"Do you have a webcamera?" Snart asked.  
  
"I-I'm not ready for that," Hartley said. "I do, but I'm not ready."  
  
"That's fine," Snart said. Even though his answer was immediate, as though he'd expected that reaction, his voice was even and measured. "Perhaps another time."  
  
"Perhaps," Hartley echoed.  
  
"Put me on speaker phone," Snart said. Hartley pressed the little button. "Set the phone down. Take your socks off." Hartley tried not to knock the speaker as he set the phone down. He slipped his socks off.  
  
"Take your shirt off slowly," Snart said. "Reach behind your back and pull it off."  
  
Hartley was confused. He always pulled from the bottom, turning the shirt inside-out as it came off. He reached back, pulling the shirt off. He felt like he was going to choke himself. Or ram his glasses into his face. He pulled his glasses off with his shirt, replacing them when it was discarded.  
  
"Take off just your pants," Snart said. Hartley did. His dick was threatening to poke out of his boxers.  
  
"Are you hard?" Snart asked.  
  
"Very," Hartley admitted.  
  
"Good," Snart said. "Go check the water."  
  
Hartley had no intention of leaving the bathroom until they were done with this. The water was an acceptable level. He shut the water off.  
  
"Set me on a counter where I won't get wet," Snart said. Hartley chose the toilet. It was in easy reach, but off the ground. Again, he was careful of the speaker.  
  
"Take your boxers off," Snart said. "Describe your reflection."  
  
Hartley looked in the mirror.  
  
"My hair looks wet from my gel," he said. "My lips sort of look brown today. My moles look brown today, too. It makes my skin look a little warmer. Not super warm. Like cream instead of snow."  
  
Snart hummed. "Very good. I want you to get in the tub."  
  
The anticipation was almost killing him.  
  
"Slide you hand down your stomach," Snart said. "Hold yourself. Spread those legs apart so you can get a better grip. Slowly now. Enjoy it. Enjoy your soft hands over your cock, Hartley."  
  
Hartley worked himself in the warm water for less than a minute before he came. When he did, he cried out, almost in pain. He hadn't come this hard in a while.  
  
"Hartley, are you okay?" Snart asked, tense.  
  
"Oh, y-yeah," Hartley gasped. "Very good. Very okay."  
  
"I didn't say that you could hurt yourself," Snart snapped.  
  
"That was me...cumming," Hartley said. "I'm sorry. I came too early."  
  
"You came just fine," Snart said. "You're not hurt, are you?"  
  
"No," Hartley said.  
  
"That's what's important, Hartley," Snart said. "This is an order: do not hurt yourself."  
  
"Yes, Snart," Hartley said.  
  
"Now, let's take a bath," Snart said.  
  
  
That fucking bastard.  
  
Hartley reeked of cum. He had little bits of it dried to his skin. When they flaked off, it brought on a whole new wave of the smell.  
  
He'd woken this morning with a text that had an address and 'Get over here, Piper. Don't bathe.'  
  
So Hartley had taken his old beater down through his old neighborhood, making sure to wave to Mrs. Mulligan on his way to the house of the Italian crime family. The Santini house looked exactly as it had when he'd gone to play with Mikey.  
  
Hartley pushed into the house, making his way into the living room. Snart was going to pay for-  
  
All of his anger dried up when he saw Snart sprawled on the leather armchair, looking like the King of Cold. Those ice blue boxers that matched his eyes.  
  
  
Snart grinned.  
  
Hartley had come. And from the smell of things, he'd really cum. Hell, from shade of red he was turning, he was going to really like the surprise Snart had in mind.  
  
"You smell amazing, Hartley," Snart said. Hartley whipped out his phone, taking a picture. For later. Hartley was going to look at that picture and touch himself. If that didn't make Snart hot, he wasn't sure what did.  
  
"Is that a new cologne?" Snart asked. Hartley flushed. He looked back at his phone.  
  
"I-I - you know full well what it is," Hartley sputtered. Snart wanted to eat him up right then and there. Hartley's pants were straining around the zipper. Looked like he was ready to be eaten.  
  
He'd planned to do this in the bedroom. But damn, he just couldn't wait.  
  
"It smells like sex," Snart drawled. "I feel a little lonely all...exposed. Why don't you join me?"  
  
  
Hartley had done this twice in two days. Stripped for Snart.  
  
The only difference was, he didn't have Snart's steel grey eyes on him. Snart couldn't actually see the moles that, in some light looked normal and brown, but in others looked almost violet. He hadn't seen every flaw Hartley had.  
  
And here Snart was, looking like a young, arrogant king in his slate blue boxers with one leg over the side of the single seat. His abs weren't perfectly defined, but damn near close. And the hardened dick in his boxers was about to pop out. That knit cloth wasn't going to hold for long.  
  
There was no way he could strip in front of that.  
  
"Never mind," Snart said, pulling his leg down. "I've changed my mind. Come straddle me. Clothes on."  
  
That Hartley could do. He sat across Snart's theighs, feeling like he was back in high school about to make out. Snart pulled the glasses off Hartley's face.  
  
"You have very long eyelashes," Snart said, setting the glasses to the side. He ran his hands down Hartley's sides, un-tucking Hartley's shirt.  
  
"I-I'm told," Hartley said. Snart unbuttoned the shirt so slowly. Hartley nearly ripped the damn thing off. But...Snart seemed to enjoy this. When the shirt hung open, Snart stared like he was staring at a great work of art.  
  
"It's like the forest in the dead of winter," he breathed, smoothing a hand over Hartley's skin. He leaned in pressing a clean-shaven face onto Hartley's stomach and inhaled. Then, he rolled his tongue over one of the flakes of cum, humming in approval.  
  
"You're as soft as snow," Snart said, as though it were a revelation to behold. He pushed the rest of Hartley's shirt away. Slowly. Appreciating every inch of skin as it came into view. "There's only one thing that I don't want soft."  
  
"Sex?" Hartley asked.  
  
"I was going to say your dick," Snart said, running a hand over the taught pant leg. The hand slipped behind Hartley and into his pants, cupping the ass there. Hartley bit down on his lip. Maybe stripping would've been a good idea. Right about now, he wanted Snart's hands to have room to do more than just cup.  
  
"Are you ready to strip now?" Snart asked. He licked off another line of flakes. Hartley shuddered, tingles spreading from the base of his spine.  
  
Hartley fumbled with his zipper, getting up just the tiniest bit to give him room to shimmy them down a bit. As he started to sit, Snart's arms braced him, letting Hartley lean back as he pulled them off the rest of the way, tossing his boxers and shirt with them.  
  
"You're getting so very good at this," Snart purred, pulling Hartley upright. He sanded his hands over Hartley's ass again, grabbing the younger man firmly. "So very...soft." He gave Hartley a light spank. Hartley gasped.  
  
Snart grabbed Hartley and got to his feet. He took a few steps, depositing his load onto the couch. Snart's kisses were so cold they burned. Or maybe it was just the mintiness of his mouth. Without even needing to be asked, Snart reached back, working Hartley's hole. Hartley gasped.  
  
  
It was like making love to everything he loved about snow.  
  
The soft downy surface. The way it fit perfectly against his body. The glassy luminescence that came from just the slightest light. The stark contrast of light and dark. The way it pulled every part of him out of passiveness.  
  
He gripped Hartley tighter, pushing in deeper. Hartley's short nails dug into Snart's shoulder. His head rolled back in ecstacy. Snart gave him another deep thrust, just to hear Hartley moan. God damn. The nerd knew how to push every button and make him so damn horny.  
  
"Harder," Hartley begged, a hand rubbing Snart's back. Hartley shifted to adjust for a real pounding. The sort that could leave them both in high spirits for a long time. He wanted Snart. Wanted all of him. He was begging.  
  
Snart adjusted his grip so that he could give the gentleman what he wanted. Giving Hartley every inch and all his energy. Hartley rolled beneath him, moving in time with him.  
  
Hartley tensed, his cum welling up between them. He panted, running his hands over the back of Snart's neck.  
  
"You came before me," Snart accused, half irked, half pleased.  
  
"I'm sorry," Hartley panted.  
  
"You're going to have to be punished, you know," Snart said, rolling so that Hartley lay on top. "You're going to have to get me off."  
  
"How?" Hartley asked, wiping some sweat off his forehead. Sweat, one of the many parts to the fragrance of sex.  
  
Snart reached up, tracing Hartley's lower lip. "I think you already know how."  
  
Hartley got up swolling, biting on that red lip as he did. He knelt between Snart's knees. He pulled the condom off, tossing it away. He gripped Snart's dick firmly, diving right in. Sucking like he meant it. No encouragement needed.  
  
"Oh, just like that," Snart groaned. Hartley cupped Snart's balls, giving him even more stimulation. Snart groaned. He hadn't meant to cum. But Hartley took it in stride, swallowing like a champion.  
  
He panted.  
  
"How did I do?" he asked, coming to rest next to Snart.  
  
"Amazing, Hartley," Snart said. He kissed him. "Amazing."


	10. Promise Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry/Iris, cute, minor fluff, a little bit of inner turmoil, sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I updated! I've been very busy. I have some comments for West/Allen. Here it is. I have another West/Wells in the works, but it's sort of slow going. I see a comment for Barry/Iris/Caitlin. I keep trying to work on that too, but nothing good is coming of it (there's a pun in there somewhere). I've got part of a Barry/Cisco, but it's on paper and I can't find it.

“Promise me, if we ever get married, you’ll never dance like that at our wedding,” Iris said.

“I can promise you that,” Barry said. “The dancing, not the marriage part.”

“What do you think our Earth-2 selves are up to right now?” Iris mused.

“Probably in Atlantis by now,” Barry said.

“Don’t you mean Atlanta?” Iris asked.

“No, Atlantis, the mythical city,” Barry said. “They’re hiding from Zoom.”

“If there were an actual mythical underwater city like that, you know it would be a romantic getaway place,” Iris pointed out. “That doesn’t sound like hiding.”

“They can hide from Zoom and have a second honeymoon,” Barry retorted. “They seemed like a smart couple. They’ll figure it out.”

Iris chuckled. It was so bazaar. Her alternate-future self was married to Barry. Her Earth-2 self was married to him. Was it coincidence? Fate? Iris had to know everything about Barry. Unless there was a part of Barry that he only showed to his girlfriends-

Heat rose in her cheeks. She was already wondering ‘how big’ and ‘how good’. About her best friend. She took a deep drink.

“You okay?” Barry asked.

“Yeah,” Iris lied, looking away.

“Oh. Hey, Iris, it doesn’t have to be weird,” Barry said. “Go dance with him.” Iris realized she was looking in the direction of a relatively hot guy who was obviously checking her out.

“Nope,” Iris said firmly, trying to meet Barry’s eyes after ‘how big’. She found herself looking at the space between his eyes. “Can’t dance, remember?”

“You could just talk,” he suggested.

“I don’t think he’s interested in that,” Iris pointed out. Shit. She was seeing Barry in all sorts of new lights. He was actually really hot. Lips that weren’t too full for his face. A really strong jawline. She could see Barry being a model for American Eagle or something. Laughing on the beach. Wearing swim trunks, slightly damp from the ocean.

 _No. NO._ Iris lamented. Each and every trip to the beach was now scrutinized for one thing: when did Barry get so hot?

“Probably not,” he agreed, smiling. Had his smile always been that warm and inviting?

“Do you want to dance?” Iris blurted out.

“We haven’t danced since junior prom,” Barry said. He held out a hand. Iris grabbed it.

 

 

 _I’m in fucking high school again_ , Iris thought. She was laying on her bed, a pint of mint chip sweating on her dresser, trying to figure out what was going on with her. All she needed was to call Brianna and she’d have reverted to her teen self.

If she started dating Barry and it didn’t work out, she could lose her best friend. So what if Barry had a big dick or was amazing in bed? Why the hell should she care?

 _Because he’s always scored highest._ Out of every guy Iris had ever known or dated, Barry was the only guy to score an eighty or above on her internal checklist. He was smart, funny, honest, respectful, he had her dad’s approval, they got along- and the list just kept going.

The only thing that was really stopping her was the fact that he was her _best_ friend. Stopping her, but so alluring. She didn’t know anyone else better, and only her dad knew her better than Barry. He was hot. If he was good in bed, then he’d be perfect. If only she didn’t have to put her friendship in jeopardy to find out.

 

 

Barry shut the TV off.

“What’s going on?” Iris asked. Barry switched on the light.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Barry said, face crumpled. “You’ve been acting weird all week. Did I make you mad? Am I dangerous now?” He was all curved in on himself. With those big hands that haunted her in her dreams.

She looked away, disgusted with herself.

“What did I do?” Barry breathed. “You’re _so_ pissed. You won’t even look at me.”

“Barry, remember when we were at the club, talking about our Earth-2 selves?” she asked. Realization sparked in his eyes.

“Iris, if I’d known it was going to make you uncomfortable, I wouldn’t have brought it up,” he blurted out. “It’s not like that with us anymore.” That wasn’t exactly the epiphany she wanted him to have. She leaned over and kissed him.

He froze under her touch. He didn’t start moving until she’d slid all the way onto his lap. He pulled away from her. Iris’ throat closed. He didn’t want her. Patty had moved him past her so completely that this was impossible. Now that she wanted him, he didn’t want her.

“Sh-shouldn’t we go on a few dates before we just-?” Barry panted. The hard-on in his pants begged to differ.

“And what?” Iris asked, relieved. “You ask me about my family and musical tastes? And then I ask you about why you became a CSI and what movies you like?”

“Good point,” Barry said.

Their lips met again. Barry’s mouth was sweet and salty from the popcorn and soda. He moved aggravatingly slow when she wanted him to just grab her by the waist and give it to her like he meant it. She reached down, fumbling with his zipper.

Barry grabbed her hands, pulling them back to the small of her waist and holding them with one hand. With his other, he grabbed her hair, pulling her head back. He sucked at her neck.

“You just going to just going to work my neck?” Iris panted. She wanted his hands all over her, consuming her.

It was less than a second later that she was laying on a bed in the dark. Barry’s smell surrounded her, and his warm hands were unbuttoning her shirt. When he buried his face in her breasts, he was plastered to her, his hands pushing up on her back, arcing her into him.

He nipped the outsides of her breasts and traced the outside of her areolas with his tongue. Iris knotted her hands in his hair, deciding that she wanted more of that. He complied. A hand made its way to the front of her jeans, rubbing her clit through the fabric.

“Bear,” Iris moaned. She wanted to keep him against her, but damn if she didn’t want him face deep in her. She let go of his hair, and he slid down, taking her jeans with him.

The one thing sexier than Barry coming out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist was the sight of him removing her panties with his teeth. He kissed the stretch marks on her thighs and the little mole on her hipbone.

He lapped at her wetness. Iris clutched the bed. He splayed her legs so he could stroke her inside and out.  He slowed every time she was about to cum, taking her closer and closer to the edge. Teasing her. Barry would trace the rim of her vagina softly just to make her crazy.

“Barry, I want it hard. _Yesterday_ ,” Iris said. “Fuck.”

“Mmm,” Barry hummed into her clit. He pulled away. “As you wish.” He stood. In the half-light, she couldn’t quite see what he was doing. But she recognized the sound of jeans with an attached belt fall to the floor. She grabbed Barry’s waist with her legs, drawing him closer.

Barry slid into her. Iris moaned and wrapped her legs around him. Barry didn’t seem to quite get what she wanted, taking it slow but hard. Iris rolled them over so she could be on top. She pressed down into him, hard and fast. He seemed to get the hint, and he pressed up to meet her.

“Iris,” Barry choked. He was gripping her legs tighter now. Iris moved so she could finish soon with him. The two of them clenched as they came.

Iris collapsed onto Barry’s chest.

“Damn,” Barry said, trailing his hands down her back. “That was…”

“Exhausting,” Iris panted. He’d been panting before. Why wasn’t he out of breath now? Was that his superpowers?

“I was gunna say ‘amazing’,” Barry said, wrapping himself around her. She buried into his warmth. Well, maybe there were some less unfair upsides to his powers. Like extra warmth. “It’s not like we’ve ever talked preferences.”

“True,” Iris said. She did like things a little on the hard side. Not exceedingly rough.

“Hey, Iris, promise me you’ll always be my friend, no matter what,” Barry said.

“I promise,” Iris said.


	11. Biting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Joe/Harry; Joe/Harrison (past); lab sex; food porn???; not going for that, tho; cultural differences between Earth-1 and Earth-2; neck-biting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of a continuation of Handcuffed to the Headboard? I’m not entirely sure. It sure could be, and it was inspired by that one. I also wanted to explore some reasons why Harrison Wells is abrasive at times. I also thought it would be pretty hot to have the tables turned on our favorite calculative man.

Detective Joe West leaned against the window, staring out at the skyline. He was almost indistinguishable from Joey West, owner of Jitterbug and lounge singer. Maybe a little more fit here. A little more even-tempered here. It was hard to tell who brooded more, though.

“So…what did my doppleganger do to you?” Harry asked, leaning against the glass a few feet from Joe. He couldn’t imagine his other-self doing anything to hurt such a precious creature. But then again, he didn’t know this world’s Harrison Wells. And he didn’t know a damn thing about Joe West.

“He broke my heart,” Joe said, his voice rough. Like he wanted to cry.

Harry wiped his nose, trying not to react too strongly. He didn’t even know if he had cause to be happy while this man was in pain. He wanted to be – to have the illusion that he could have a man like Joey West.

But this wasn’t Joey West. And Joe hadn’t fallen for Harrison of “Earth-2”.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said gently. “I’m not him.”

“I know you aren’t. Believe me,” Joe said. Was that a hint of disappointment in his voice? Maybe Harry didn’t measure up to the Harrison Wells of this earth. Maybe Joe didn’t like to see his dead lover’s face every day.

Harry hesitated only a second before sauntering off to the little nest Cisco had made for himself. Detective Joe West was better off without him.

 

It would’ve been infinitely easier if some form of “Earth-1” Harrison Wells was alive. Harry could take the abuse from the city. He could be a hated man. He could feign being paralyzed from the waist down. He couldn’t abide this constant confinement to an abandoned wreck of a building. Going out during the day was nearly impossible. The kinds of businesses that were open all night weren’t always the savoriest. And Harry was at the mercy of Snow and Ramon for food.

“Hungry?” Joe asked. Harry slammed down his pen. He was _famished_. Ramon was late again. If this kept up, Harry was going to need to resort to plastic surgery. Maybe get vocal lessons to change his voice. Make himself a new alias. If only he wasn’t so vain, he’d actually do it.

Joe had stiff paper bags – the sort that came from better quality restaurants. The to-go boxes were also of a promising quality. Harry started in on a tube of bread while Joe more slowly set the food out, as though they were going to eat together.

“I thought you might like some company,” Joe said, setting out eating utensils and paper plates. Harry reached for a tomato that stuck out of the salad. Joe swatted his hand. “You can finish that breadstick while I do this.”

Harry flushed and sat down. He wasn’t a child. Idly, he thought about trying to eat the ‘breadstick’ as sexily as he could, but Joe was almost done. And Harry had never really figured out how to be sexy while eating. Joe finished by pouring two large helpings of red wine into paper cups.

Joe sat down and motioned for Harry to eat. Harry started serving himself, starting with that damn tomato.

“Missing dinners with your beau?” Harry asked, trying to take the perpetual cynical, sarcastic edge out. And almost certainly failing.

“Missing the experience of sitting down with a person and sharing a meal,” Joe said. “And you’re sort of forced to be a shut-in. I figured we could both use it.”

Harry sipped his wine. Oh, sweet Atlantis, let Joe West be attempting to seduce him. Either way, Harry was going to try to seduce him.

“I do, occasionally, enjoy company. If it’s the right kind,” Harrison said.

“And what’s ‘the right kind’?” Joe probed, an angry glint in his eye.

“Handsome, intelligent men who buy me…tomato sauce noodles,” Harry said. “What _is_ this? It’s delicious.”

“You don’t have Italian on your earth?” Joe asked. “It used to be Rome. Before that I think it was Greece.”

“Ah,” Harrison said. “The Greeks made the mistake of attacking Atlanteans. Atlantis counter-attacked, and the Greeks were driven inland. When the Romans tried to take over, the Greeks pushed them to the sea, where the Atlanteans mistook them for their enemies and chased them to North Africa, where they became the Anima. And that is probably why there is no ‘Italian’ on my earth.”

“That’s a crying shame,” Joe said, not taking the bait. “It’s also a crying shame that you’re avoiding the topic of describing ‘the right kind’ of company.”

“You’re fishing,” Harry accused. He could compliment Joe all day, but like fun he’d do it just because Joe was calling him out on his shit. God that was hot. Joey wouldn’t do it so…matter-of-factly. He’d be closed and mad and prickly.

It was completely flipped. Joey the man who played everyday life fast and loose; the man who built walls when things got serious. Joe the man who was responsible and played his cards close to his chest; the man who opened up when he was serious.

“It’s hard not to like a compliment,” Joe said, stretching. He still wore his shoulder holster. As he moved, it pulled his shirt taught, emphasizing his muscles. “Hey, eyes up here.” Harry looked back at his food. Italian. He wondered what other delights Rome had to offer.

“Who is Joseph West in your world?” Joe asked. Harry used the fork to make straight little lines in the sauce on his plate, a little edible zen garden.

“Joey is a lounge singer,” Harry said. “He’s a bit wild, but he’s kind. He likes throwing charity events, even if there’s a bit too much carousing than is socially acceptable.”

“And you two…?” Joe asked.

“He prefers someone a bit…younger,” Harry said, finally able to meet Joe’s eyes again. What an understatement. He had women and men on his arms that were younger than his daughter. Joey had never looked at Harry once the way Joe looked at him now. Harry couldn’t compete with big-eyed nymphs with soft lips and gentle curves. So he never did.

“That’s a damn shame,” Joe chuckled, looking through Harry. Watching some moment in the past. Harry’s stomach clenched, wishing he could watch those moments in his own memory. Instead, all he had were a thousand moments of bitterness, watching Joey leave Harry at the bar to pick up a man or woman barely old enough to drink.

“I suppose,” Harry sighed. He got up, abandoning his tomato noodles. Joe grabbed his wrist before he could get too far.

“I want to do this again, you and me,” Joe said. Harry nodded, only hearing ‘I want to do you’. He slipped out of Joe’s grasp. Joe who right now looked too much like the man of his dreams.

 

“We’re heading out,” Ramon called. “You want me to pick anything up for you?”

“I’ll be fine,” Harry grouched. Ever since he’d chastised the young man about not being prompt with food, Ramon had been better about keeping the Star Labs breakroom fridge stocked. It was so stupid. Harry was a grown man who should be able to go to the store and get groceries for himself.

“Whatever,” Ramon sighed, leaving Harry in the cortex, alone.

So alone.

Harry leaned back, pushing away memories of his old life. A life of freedom. Ecstasy with his daughter and fleeting moments of bittersweet with Joey. The pride of his work at Star. He shoved away from the desk, going for a run.

It was the only time he allowed himself outside. Late at night with one of those snow masks on. Now that it was cold, he could get away with one without looking suspicious. Although a man in a hoodie running at all hours of the night would be a little suspicious no matter what.

The crisp air cut through him, a cleansing power from the sins he’d committed. From the sins he wanted to commit. It purified his mind from the shadows that lurked there. The pain of running was further penance.

When Harry got back, he made a b-line for the fridge for a post-run snack. The breakroom table was covered in expensive take out boxes. There was a light snore coming from the couch. Harry leaned over.

Joe was sprawled out, one hand hanging off the couch, the other limp on his chest. His shoulder holster and belt were on the coffee table. His tie was undone, and the top two buttons of that crisp white shirt were open to the salt and pepper on Joe’s chest.

Harry nearly fainted from the blood rushing to his dick. He turned away, swaying a little. Joe West could be sexy _asleep_. That was pretty talented. Harry leaned on the table for support while his body equalized. He dragged a chair out – a little too loudly.

“Harry?” Joe asked, sitting up.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” That was a shame. He would’ve liked to stare a little longer at Joe.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” Joe sighed, getting up. Harry was no longer apologetic for waking Joe. The silhouette of Joe’s sleepy, disheveled figure and sleep-laden voice was even better than him napping. “I thought I might eat with you again.”

Harry was glad for the half-light of the room. He was flushing from hearing ‘I thought I might eat you again’.

“Is that all you wanted to do?” Harry asked. Asked before he could stop himself from saying something so outrageous. He wasn’t Harrison Wells. Hell, even Harrison Wells hadn’t been Harrison Wells. And Joseph West wasn’t Joey.

“Is that an invitation?” Joe asked, tracing a hand from Harry’s cold, sweaty chest to his chin.

“I’m not Harrison, you know,” Harry reminded Joe.

“All the better,” Joe said, leaning in towards Harry’s face.

“I’m sweaty,” Harry protested.

“And salty,” Joe added. He kissed Harry. Although the kissing was almost like biting. Harry parted his mouth for Joe, letting him in. Letting himself be snatched up and pressed roughly against the wall, Joe’s hard-on pressed against his thigh. Joe was half standing on the chair he’d just ripped Harry out of.

Joe knew Harrison Wells’ body. Harry had been far more women than men in his life, and wasn’t often ravished. He had no idea that there was a strip of skin on his neck that would make him loose his _goddamn mind_ when bitten.

Harry cupped Joe’s ass. It was firm under his slacks. It was hard to appreciate fully when Joe kept working that little patch of skin that was almost sending him to orgasm alone. Joe rubbing his boner against Harry’s added to the effect.

But it wasn’t enough. Harry slipped his hand between them and unzipped his pants. He groped for Joe’s dick. Joe stopped what he was doing and helped. He wrapped his hand around both of their dicks, grinding his hips into Harry’s.

Harry moaned. Joe unzipped the still-damp, still-cold hoodie and licked the sweat off Harry’s collarbone. Nibbled bits of shoulder while his hips kept working their magic. The heat between the two of them cut through the chill still in Harry’s clothes from the run.

Too fast, Harry shook in an orgasm. Joe stroked him a little after, sending a few aftershocks through him.

“You didn’t cum,” Harry panted.

“You can remedy that, right?” Joe asked. Harry’s stomach grumbled at the two of them. Joe chuckled. “Food first.”

Harry reluctantly returned to the table. Joe went to the sink and grabbed a few wads of paper towels. Harry took one when offered and hastily cleaned most of himself up. He started serving himself some of the pasta with tomato sauce. Only this time wasn’t tomato sauce. It was a thick green sauce.

“Pesto,” Joe said. “It’s…very finely ground herbs and oils and stuff. It’s good.”

Harry ate as hastily as he could, not wanting to spoil the mood any more than he already had. The pesto was excellent cold. He was certain it would be even better warm.

“Hey, don’t rush yourself,” Joe murmured, stilling Harry’s hands. “I don’t want you getting sick on me later.” Harry flushed. He’d actually had that happen to him once. He took his time, glancing over at Joe from time to time. But every single time, Joe was staring at him.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Harry accused.

“Not really,” Joe said. “I had a big lunch. Dinner was an excuse.” He brushed his leg along Harry’s.

“I thought I was supposed to take my time,” Harry objected.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not conflicted between wanting to be in bed now and not wanting you to be sick,” Joe purred. Harry abandoned the pesto and stood.

 

Harry gasped. Joe hesitated, worried he’d been a little too rough.

“Don’t you fucking st-st-,” Harry blathered, words cut off when Joe started up again. Harry gripped Joe’s wrists for stability. Joe gripped Harry’s hips tighter. Harry gasped – another thing he didn’t know he loved. Harry’s back arched as he fought cumming.

Joe geared down the force of his strokes. Harry groaned and shivered. Joe leaned over, lending him more heat. But it wasn’t a shiver of cold. Harry’s dick became a volcano of cum, erupting all over his own shirt.

“Twice before me?” Joe grumbled. Harry’s tell was different. It was exquisite. Too bad Joe was oh for two.

“I-I didn’t think I had that in me,” Harry panted. Joe pulled out, tossing the condom into the trash. “We could dock. I’ve never cum for that.”

“What’s that?” Joe asked, genuinely unaware.

“You put your foreskin over mine and then my foreskin over yours,” Harry said.

“I’m circumcised,” Joe said.

“That…means you have no foreskin?” Harry asked. “What the hell kind of idiot cuts off their foreskin? No. This isn’t right.” Harry grabbed Joe’s open shirt and with a strength Joe had never had demonstrated on himself before, flipped Joe onto the bed. Harry stuck his finger in Joe’s face.

“I’ll deal with you in a minute,” he growled. He shuffled down and passed Joe’s dick between his hands, murmuring. “You poor thing. Don’t worry, I’m a doctor.”

Harry cupped Joe’s balls with one hand and held his dick firmly with the other. He licked the head, working it slowly. Joe groaned, running his hands through that jet black hair. Harry massaged the base of Joe’s dick, sending a jolt through him.

“Fuck,” Joe grunted. Harry didn’t increase pressure to the base, but he did increase the frequency of the circles. Joe’s hips bucked. Harry’s hands held tight, and his sucking increased.

“Harry,” Joe warned. Harry released his mouth and started jerking Joe off. Joe leaned his head back, riding the pleasure all the way to the end of himself. He stilled Harry’s hands. Harry curled up next to Joe.

“So your dick and I had a discussion. He approves of me,” Harry said.

“I got the memo,” Joe panted, stroking Harry’s back.

“Also, it hates you for taking away its sheath,” Harry said. “Because you took away fifteen _thousand_ nerve endings.”

“Hey, Harry?” Joe asked. “Shut up.”

“ _Rude_ ,” Harry said, poking Joe. “Ramon has rubbed off on you. Don’t worry, you’re sharper than he is.” Joe laughed. The difference was night and day.

“What?” Harry demanded.

“I don’t want to bring up the past,” Joe said. “But it’s a good thing.”

“I’ll allow it,” Harry decided.

“Harrison didn’t want to talk. Not like this. He wanted to…lecture at me. Not talk to me,” Joe said, running a hand over Harry’s side. “It wasn’t _us_. It was him and sometimes him with me as a side.”

“Is it an ‘us’?” Harry asked, wary.

“I want it to be,” Joe said, trailing his hands up to cradle Harry’s neck. “Can it be?” Harry pressed his face into the smushed pillow beneath them. He made a sort of _mert_ noise.

“Only if there’s more neck-biting in my future,” Harry said.

“Oh, oh there will be,” Joe laughed. “Lots of biting.”


	12. Triple Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for Tinny3003. This is my feeble attempt at what a poly relationship/three-way might be like. Glamorized/idealized I'm sure. Also, disregard Eddie however you please. He and Iris never happened.
> 
> Also, someone wrote some hot Cisco/Barry porn that I really liked, and I threw something in that they had. I can’t remember the author or the name of the work, and I forgot to bookmark it. But if anyone can remember the one about the desensitizing gel, please leave a note in the comments. I want to read that again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barry/Iris/Caitlin bisexual, poly relationship, three-way, FLUFF, changing POV, gentle sex, rough sex, squirting, squirting how-to???; I did research I promise, voyeurism

"You're sure you're okay with this?" Iris asked.

If Barry was being honest, he wasn't okay with this. Not about Iris's bisexuality. She'd come out to him in high school, long before he realized that 'bisexual' carried a certain stigma. He'd also known that she took all her relationships seriously. And he'd never have agreed to be in one with her if he hadn't been certain that she'd treat him well.

"I'm okay with it," Barry lied.

He was not okay with meeting Iris' girlfriend. He wasn't sure he could be an adult. He couldn't fully trust himself not to be petty or jealous. It was easy not to be territorial of Iris when this mystery woman didn't infringe on the relationship the two of them shared.

"It's okay, Barry," Iris assured him, rubbing his back. "You already know her."

Who? One of Iris' high school friends? Was it someone from the station? CCPN? Who exactly did they both know that Iris would go for?

 

Caitlin pushed a curl behind her ear.

She'd agonized for hours over what she was going to wear. There wasn't exactly protocol on what to wear when meeting your girlfriend's boyfriend. Caitlin had settled for 'meeting parents' clothes - cashmere cardigan over a blouse and a skirt.

Iris had already tried to soothe Caitlin's anxiety, saying that her boyfriend already liked Caitlin. Whether that was because Iris had told him about her or he thought he would watch/join in was unclear. Either way, the returning errant thought kept coming back.

The door swung open. Iris smiled like Caitlin was the answer to her prayers.

"I'm so glad you came!" Iris exclaimed, taking Caitlin's hands. They were warm and soft and familiar. Caitlin couldn't back out, not when Iris' mere touch made her so damn happy. Iris led her into the apartment. When they turned the corner, Caitlin met eyes with her patient, her friend, her partner-in-vigilantism, Barry Allen.

"So?" Iris asked, looking between them expectantly. "Any thoughts?"

"You're dating my doctor," Barry said lamely.

"You're dating my patient," Caitlin echoed. It sounded even lamer out of her mouth. She hadn't even considered Barry as a possibility.

"I love you both," Iris said. "And I really want you two to know about each other. And...maybe...like each other."

"By 'like' you mean-," Barry began.

"Yes, date," Iris said. "Or, just be friends. I just...I want the two of you to be in the same room and be okay with all of this. I want you both in my life at the same time. Is that possible?"

Caitlin squeezed Iris' hands. She didn't want it to end here. Not when she could still fight to be with Iris, even if she wasn't quite sure how these relationships were supposed to go. She just had to think of Iris as a package deal - there was just more of Iris to get to know. Or, rather, Barry.

"I won't promise that we'll make it past friends, but I'll try," Caitlin said.

"I'll try," Barry said, still sitting on the couch. He didn't seem to know where to look. Caitlin didn't blame him. There wasn't a general social convention on meeting your girlfriend's other significant other. But his smile was hopeful enough.

 

\---

 

Talking to Caitlin, being friends with her. That wasn't the issue. The issue was that, from the start, he hadn't really seen her as more than his doctor or friend. They were just...friends. There wasn't anything sexual about the two of them.

But he'd said he would try. So he should probably try to flirt a little. He usually was attracted to girls who flirted with him and-

That was a reason he'd never even considered Caitlin. He always waited for an initial flirt - or at least something that was somewhere between friendly and flirty. That begged the question if he was into someone who was into him or if he was into a little extra confidence. Maybe it was a combination.

Iris was certainly confident as she'd picked out Barry's suit. It was a black suit with a charcoal power tie. She'd done some kind of fancy knot for him.

"Barry?" Caitlin asked. Barry turned and found himself searching for his jaw on the floor. Caitlin was in a white lace dress that belonged on a white carpet or something. And even with the flesh colored pantyhose material keeping the whole dress on, he had to wonder if it was even legal to wear something like that in public.

Caitlin flushed when she saw Barry. Whether it was because he was gaping or because she liked the suit he wasn't sure. He offered his arm.

"Shall we?" he asked.

 

\---

 

Iris tried not to pry. She really did. The two of them had been in the dark about her developing a relationship with each of them. Now it was her turn to be in the dark about how they were going. They were less awkward in a room when she was around. But they didn't do more than brush hands.

It was easier to pry with Barry since they lived together. He'd come to bed after an evening with Caitlin. Iris would pepper him with questions about the food and how Caitlin was. But she never asked how the two of them were getting on, and Barry only barley volunteered anything. She knew that they’d kissed a few times, and every time Barry mentioned it, a little thrill ran through her.

Iris slipped out of her ballet flats as she came in. She was almost to the kitchen when she realized that it was occupied. Obviously Barry had come home for lunch. And brought Caitlin with him.

He was leaning in, hands around Caitlin's jaw. He looked as though he were going to savor her. Caitlin had one hand on Barry's arm, the other on his shirt, tugging him closer. _Finally_ , evidence that they liked each other. Iris bit on her fist to keep herself from squealing as they kissed.

It wasn't until they pulled away that they realized that Iris was there. They jumped away like they were in trouble. Suddenly, Iris felt shy. Were they ready to add her into the mix? They were good with her on an individual basis still.

"Can I join in?" Iris asked, coyly.

"S-sure," Caitlin said, waving her arms in that cute awkward way she did. Iris ran in, pulling them into a hug. Since they were both taller than her, they had to bend over to be comfortable. Iris kissed their cheeks. She'd never been so happy. The people she loved most together. Even if the three of them never did more than this together, she was satisfied.

 

\---

 

Caitlin inspected her empty wine glass. It was late. The wine was gone. She idly calculated her ability to drive. She was a tweak buzzed. The bigger problem was that she was horny as hell.

“God, Barry, I’m _gushing_ ,” Iris teased, wrapping her arms around Barry as she leaned over the couch. “Keep doing that and I’ll have to be all over you.”

“It was a little fart,” Barry said stiffly. “And I already apologized for it.”

“Showoff,” Caitlin muttered, setting her glass down. Female ejaculation had always been high on her bucket list. Now it was just one of those lines that kept collecting dust. Iris could do it at the slightest provocation.

“Aww, Caitlin. You’ll gush one day,” Iris promised. “Oh! Barry’s really good at doing it. And he doesn’t even use his powers. Actually, he’s the one who taught me how to do it.”

“A guy showed you how to ejaculate?” Caitlin asked. As soon as she said it, it made sense in a way. Guys were always doing it without question. But…didn’t it work differently?

“I know,” Barry said, his tone clearly siding with the speculation in Caitlin’s voice. “But the thing is, I did a _lot_ of research on it. Like, real research, not just hearing a rumor on the internet. And I practiced a lot. So I’m pretty good at helping her get to the point of ejaculation.”

“So you don’t make her do it?” Caitlin asked, confused.

“Well, it’s sort of a lead a horse to water type situation. There’s a million factors to it. I think the biggest two are trust and strong vaginal walls,” Barry said.

“Kegels for the win!” Iris whooped. She spilled over the side of the couch to sit behind Barry. She nibbled his ear; he squeezed her thigh. Caitlin trailed her foot up Barry’s leg.

“Baaaaarrrryyy,” Caitlin whined, mimicking Iris when she wanted sex. “I wanna squirt.” Barry flushed.

“Baaaaarrrryyy,” Iris whined, rubbing Barry’s shoulders. “I wanna watch her squirt.”

“I have two women who want to get naked with me,” Barry pointed out. “You don’t need to ask me twice.”

They set up in the kitchen because she was more familiar with the room, and she didn’t like the idea of things getting too close to the toilet.

“What if I pee on you?” Caitlin asked. She’d done it more than once on her own in her shower.

“I have super speed,” Barry reassured her her, running his hands over her legs. Iris sat beneath her, propping her up. She massaged Caitlin’s collarbone and stomach. “So, when you normally feel like you have to urinate – you know, right before you cum – push out like you’re pushing out a baby. And don’t worry about doing this on the first try. And if nothing else, I’m gunna make sure you have as much fun as possible no matter what.”

“Just feel great, baby,” Iris cooed. She ran her tongue down Caitlin’s neck, massaging slick little circles all along the sensitive skin. Barry did the same on the other side, his weight light across the length of her body. A new wave of wet dripped out of her, continuing to drench her panties. But she didn’t have to worry. They’d already done everything to prevent a mess. She could relax. Although her real relaxation was probably solely due to Iris’ hands on her breasts and Barry’s hands making little circles down her spine.

Iris opened Caitlin’s blouse, allowing Barry to trail kisses down her front and suck little hickeys into her stomach. He went all the way down to press butterfly kisses into her thighs after tossing off her skirt and panties. He kept at it until Caitlin was nearly ready to rip his hair out. Or her hair.

But his mouth finally alighted on her clitoris, followed by a finger tracing her labia. He gently sucked and licked. Caitlin was overflowing. He used her own wetness as lubricant for his finger. He massaged the inside of her, slowly trailing his to her cervix and back.

Iris leaned around, kissing Caitlin’s face. She massaged Caitlin’s collarbone, chasing away any residual dregs of stress away.

Barry started tracing the same spot over and over, a rhythm starting. Caitlin’s hips bucked. He added a second finger, still pressing gently, but moving much faster. Caitlin gasped, reaching out to run her hands through Iris’ hair. Those fingers rubbed her just right. Caitlin barely had a sense of self as she vaguely remembered that she was supposed to push out.

Her own research had only lead her to rumors and the fact that squirting felt like peeing. And it was true. But it was a more slippery feeling. And it almost didn’t feel like her own body. It was like a grapefruit being squeezed open between her legs.

The rush of release was more than she’d ever felt. A whole new level of pleasure she’d always hoped for but never gotten. Caitlin slumped in Iris’ arms, still shaking. Iris rained down little kisses on her face.

“That was amazing,” Caitlin panted. She looked down at Barry. He was licking the dripping liquid off his top lip. His face and front of his shirt were drenched.

“You did great, Cait,” Barry agreed, patting her leg.

“I need to fuuuuuuck you two sooooooo hard,” Iris whined.

“I don’t have much in the tank right now,” Caitlin chuckled. She tapped Iris’ shoulder. “Tag, you’re it.”

 

Barry tangled his hands in Iris’ hair.

“If you rip out my weave again, I will hurt you,” Iris growled. She’d always been so visual. Seeing Caitlin cumming on him had turned her rough switch. He tugged her head back, closer to him so her back arched.

“Promise?” he murmured. She grunted, reaching back behind her to pull his hips close. He had her pushed against the kitchen counter at an angle such he had the most control over her. He teased her, keeping his waist just out of reach for her to pull him into her.

“FUUUCK,” Iris raged, gripping the counter. He slapped her ass. She calmed down a little, but her vag was dripping like a mother. “Fuck me _please_ , Mr. Allen.” Barry stuck a hand between her legs, teasing her a little longer. She tried to push her wetness into his hand, but he lowered her head to the counter, keeping her from getting too far.

“I’ve been soooo baaaad, Mr. Allen,” she whined, almost sick of foreplay at this point. “I’ve fucked my girlfriend, and I didn’t even let my boyfriend _watch_.”

“Oh, you have been bad, Miss West,” Barry chuckled. “I really hope you’re ready for this.” He slid himself in with deliberate slowness, seating himself fully inside so she could feel all of him.

When he started, it was all at once. His hips slapped against her with that feel-good hard. Caitlin got up on the counter. Barry Iris up just enough so Caitlin could wrap her legs around the two of them and press Iris’ face into those alabaster breasts. Iris sucked the hickeys Barry had made.

She came too fast, a gush of her own splashing against the tile. She panted, wrapping her arms around Caitlin. Barry removed himself from her and was back in a second with waters.

“I’m glad that you’re _you_ with both of us,” Caitlin mused, trailing her hand down Iris’ arm.

“What do you mean?” Iris asked, completely lost.

“I worried about that, too,” Barry admitted. Iris sipped her water, afraid she’d missed something. Caitlin noticed her expression.

“It’s nothing bad. I just worried that you were someone else when you were…having sex with Barry,” Caitlin said. “Like, maybe you weren’t showing me parts of yourself that you could only show to him.”

“But we don’t have rough sex,” Iris said. Caitlin really only had very gentle sex.

“But you still act the same. Your dirty talk is a little different, but you still act like you. You still grab at your partner and anything near to you,” Caitlin said. She flushed, the light pink spreading all the way to the tops of her breasts. “I don’t feel like you’ve been holding back parts of yourself. Like I wasn’t enough.”

“But- but you are enough. I-I feel so _selfish_ ,” Iris choked. She’d caused them so much stress. “I can’t believe how awful I’ve been to you two. I don’t deserve either of you.”

“Hey, hey,” Barry soothed. “You’re not selfish. You let Caitlin and me know exactly what you wanted, and we both said that we were okay with that. On top of it, you wanted us to not just be okay with each other, but to love each other. And knowing you, it was because you wanted us to see in each other what you see.”

Iris’ tears turned to ones of happiness. She hugged her two favorite people in the world.

 

Barry reclined in the kingsize pillowtop. Tomorrow he’d have to clean up the kitchen before he removed any utensils. But that meant washing away the _parfum de femmes_. If he got up a little earlier than usual, he could masturbate in there before he had to clean it up.

He hadn’t quite been paying enough attention to Iris’ tells. She’d cum before he’d realized that she was already there. So not only had he not cum with Caitlin, he hadn’t gotten to with Iris, either.

“Hey, baby,” Iris purred, slinking into the room. She had on her red lace corset and matching panties with the stockings that went up all the way to her thighs. She’d even put on a demonic red lipstick. She set her hands on her hips. “I noticed you didn’t cum out there.” His dick throbbed.

“I was a _bad_ boy,” he whispered hoarsely.

“You were,” Caitlin said, coming around the corner in Iris’ dark blue corset set. The twin of the red set. Iris had never liked it on herself, but Barry was happy to see Caitlin enjoying it, complete with matching blue lipstick. “So bad that Iris needed backup.”

They sauntered over to him, all bedroom eyes and swatches of skin peeking out. They grabbed his hands and gently pushed them above his head, lacing them between the headboard. Caitlin pulled a pair of cuffs out of hammerspace and snapped them on. Their weight was oddly familiar.

“We wouldn’t want you speeding away,” Iris crooned, stroking his jaw.

“Speed cuffs? Oh my god, that’s so hot,” Barry gasped. Not that he’d ever try to escape this. Iris gave his face a little swat. Oh, he was going to have to fight hard-ons with all his future villains. Caitlin kissed his other cheek, her body lightly pressing against his.

“You’ll have to wait a little longer,” Caitlin murmured. The two of them pulled away from him, turning their attention to each other.

Iris pulled Caitlin close, gripping Caitlin’s ass. Caitlin smoothed her hands over Iris’ breasts and up into her hair. The two of them kissed, enacting some pretty hot girl-on-girl porn. _Live_. It was torture not to be able to touch them. Sweet, sweet torture. Barry licked his lips as Iris unclasped Caitlin’s corset, letting her breasts drop heavily and _bounce_. Sweet jeezus. Iris tongued the dark areolas. It was even better when Caitlin unleashed Iris’ breasts and gave her nipples solid twists. Iris and Barry were both moaning for more.

By the time they were down to their stockings, Barry would’ve gotten off at a touch. Iris was hyper aware of this as they removed his boxers. His erection swung free.

“Grab that ring off the table,” Iris instructed. Caitlin retrieved it and a bottle. She handed Iris the ring and turned the bottle over in her hands. Iris was careful to place the cock ring on. Barry chewed his lip. He wanted to last for every second they had planned. The cock ring would help.

“What’s this?” Caitlin asked, holding out the desensitizing gel.

“Oh, it helps Barry last longer,” Iris said. She grinned, squirting a handful into her palm. “I forgot aaaaall about it.”

“I won’t cum _that_ many times,” Barry panted, desperate. “I controlled myself with you.”

“You didn’t eat enough protein at dinner,” Iris said, spreading the gel over his entire length. The touch was almost completely muted. He shivered, vibrations rocking his veins. Fuck. He fainted _once_ from over-cumming and now Iris wouldn’t let him get anywhere near close to it.

“It’s not _fair_ ,” he moaned. “Iris, lemme fuck your pussy. _Please_. Please Miss West.”

“Not just yet,” Iris said, capping the gel. She made a perfect impersonation of the cat that ate the canary.

“Caitlin,” Barry begged. “Just a hand job. Just a little one. Please. Please, Dr. Snow.” Caitlin had her eyes glued to his dick until he spoke. Then she seemed to recognize that he had abs. And pecks. And a face that was talking to her. Her face erupted in a wicked grin. She leaned over, her hair tickling his chest. She pressed her breasts against him, making them squish and look bigger.

“Not. Yet,” she purred. She stroked his body, gently pressing her teeth into him. He shivered and shook. He couldn’t escape the damn cuffs and grip that perfect ass.

“Oh, watch this,” Iris said. Caitlin got up, making room for Iris to lay her body across his so she could rub his muscles. Grip them with all her strength. He groaned, a noise muted by Caitlin’s kiss. She tasted of sweat and Iris’ pussy and a little wine there on the end.

“Mmm,” Iris hummed, watching them. “I hate to break it up, but maybe we should think about breaking this poor guy off.”

Barry pulled away. “Yes. Yes, please, Miss West.”

They lay by his dick, each licking from their own side. Caitlin was more curious, exploratory. Iris was more measured and precise, going for each nook and cranny that he loved.

Even through miles of dulling gel, Barry exploded in their faces. Caitlin sat up, wiped a little cum off her face as if she’d never seen it in her life, and then stuck her fingers in her mouth. He nearly nut again.

“Iris, please,” he begged. She smiled, both of them knowing that she couldn’t help but indulge him now. She straddled him, sliding onto him. She worked him, squeezing and loosening her vagina on purpose as she raised and lowered herself on his dick. He met her as she came down. They were both moaning. He gripped the headboard, a vibration rocking him. Iris sat down hard, taking the whole load inside her.

“I don’t get a turn?” Caitlin asked, confused.

“Don’t worry, Cait, he’s got more than enough for both of us,” Iris assured her, giving her a quick kiss. When she got up, his dick was already erect again.

“Oh, wow,” Cait said, impressed. “Benefits of a speedster boyfriend.”

“Yeah, wait till you see what-” Barry bragged, choking as Caitlin leaned over and cleaned off the excess cum with her mouth. Which only resulted in him cumming in her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he panted. Caitlin looked at him with her doe eyes and swallowed. He shivered.

“Sorry for what?” Cait asked, climbing on top of him. It only took a second more before he was erect again. A softer hard-on, one far less demanding. One that she’d be better equipped to handle.

“You be gentle with her, Barry,” Iris warned.

Caitlin opened herself up, sliding slowly onto his length, testing how much of him she could take in. When she seemed settled and comfortable, Barry relaxed, hanging his head back. She slipped over him slowly, coming in to hold him close, shower his face with soft, breathy kisses. He parted his lips, trying to meet her mouth. She nipped and teased just a little, finally sinking into his mouth. She tasted a little of Iris and himself. Her hands traced his skin, fleeting and fluttering.

“Caitlin,” Barry panted, trying to warn her. She got off him, finishing him with her hand. He gripped the headboard one more time, that last burst of lightning ripping through his body.

 

The warmth of two bodies around her was almost stifling. Iris kicked off the blankets.

“Hey!” Barry grumbled, sitting up. Too much air flooded across her back. She squeezed Caitlin tighter.

“What’s going on?” Caitlin asked, rubbing sleep from her eyes.“It’s time to get up,” Barry sighed, checking the clock. “I don’t want to clean the kitchen. But I don’t want to eat anything made there, either.

”“We could eat out,” Caitlin sighed, pressing her face back into the pillow. Iris turned to Barry, sending him a wicked grin that he reciprocated.

“You take the back, I’ll take the front.”


	13. Sex God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for GypsyGirl: Cisco/Barry
> 
> Tags: Cisco/Barry; AU; Cisco/Hartley (past. mentioned.); could’ve been cannon?; bisexuality; lab sex

“You’re still acting weird,” Cisco accused. “I know you changed the timeline and everything, but…things aren’t that different, right?”

                He never should’ve changed the timeline. Never should’ve compromised all he’d ever known. All he’d ever loved. Cisco was staring up at him, wanting answers, and Barry couldn’t say what was wrong.

                “You know how you said that you’ve asked me to save your brother a hundred times?” Barry asked. Cisco nodded. “In my timeline, after your brother died, you never asked me to go back and save him. Not once.”

                “What?” Cisco asked, confused. “Why wouldn’t I want him back?”

                “It’s not that you didn’t want him back. It’s that…I think there was something that you had in your life that…helped you cope better,” Barry said, tiptoeing around the situation.

                “Like what?” Cisco asked. “A girlfriend?”

                “Well, a boyfriend,” Barry corrected. “But yeah.”

                Cisco grimaced. “Tell me I didn’t get back with Hartley.”

                “No. No,” Barry said. “You and Hartley were so done.”

                “Who would I get with? I mean, I haven’t really been with any guys since Hartley,” Cisco said.

                “I have…no idea,” Barry lied. Cisco raised an eyebrow.

                “Barry, who was I with?” Cisco asked. He stepped closer to Barry. Barry resisted the urge to jump back a few steps.

                “We didn’t really talk about it,” Barry said. “You were kind of embarrassed.”

                “What, embarrassed to like guys and girls?” Cisco asked. “Psht. I’d never be embarrassed.”

                “I guess in that time Hartley had been a bigger dick or something,” Barry said, shrugging. The meta-human alert app complained at Barry. Barry turned tail and ran from his love.

 

In this new world, Cisco hadn’t been with Barry. Instead, Cisco had dated a number of different women. Barry couldn’t help but wonder if Cisco had desired Lisa and Kendra in the other timeline. Did Cisco still think about them in this timeline? Did he ever think about Barry?

                “We were together,” Cisco said, appearing in the cortex out of nowhere.

                “What?” Barry asked.

                “You’ve been lying because you feel bad about us,” Cisco said. “I see the way you look at me. Everyone does, Barry. You’re not fooling anyone. So, tell me what happened.”

                “Caitlin took all the coffee,” Barry said.

                “Stop getting off topic,” Cisco snapped.

                “No. Caitlin took all the coffee. So, I asked if you wanted to go to Jitters with me,” Barry explained. Cisco settled against the console bar, waiting for Barry to continue.

                “We started talking, and…we kept going out for coffee. And then one night we went out for dinner, and in the middle of dinner I asked if you wanted to go on a date with me. You laughed and asked why we couldn’t call that dinner a date,” Barry said. He was crying and couldn’t stop. “And then we had Christmas. And New Years. And then I convinced you to try to patch things up with Dante. And you two were so close, right up until his death. And-and then you had me to pick up the pieces.”

                Cisco wiped tears away.

                “Why did you lie?” he demanded, holding Barry’s face.

                “Because…I don’t deserve to have you anymore,” Barry said. “I sacrificed your happiness for mine. And…now we live in a world where Caitlin didn’t take all the coffee.”

                “So why the fuck are you taking more of my happiness?” Cisco demanded. “No, you don’t get to do that.”

                “I-I don’t-,” Barry sputtered.

                “You don’t just get to tell me that I had this super-hot boyfriend who really cared about me enough to stick with me when things were tough and then not let me have my chance with him,” Cisco said, grabbing Barry by the front of his shirt. “Cuz the guy you’re telling me sounds like my one true love.”

                Barry pulled Cisco to his chest. Cisco’s lips had never been so sweet. Barry ran his hands through Cisco’s hair. Cisco’s hands, still crushed to Barry’s chest, were unbuttoning his flannel. Barry trailed his hands down, gripping Cisco’s ass. With a single pull, he lifted Cisco into his arms.

                Cisco gripped him hard, his straining zipper digging into Barry’s naked chest. “Fuck me. Oh, fuck. Fuck me.”

                “Well, that was the plan,” Barry teased.

                “Why are we not on the bed already?” Cisco growled. Barry dragged his feet. “Noooo. Goooo. Faaaaster.”

                “Why, Cisco, are you in a hurry?” Barry asked, pressing Cisco against the doorframe. “I can fuck you just fine right here.” He ground his zipper against Cisco. Cisco writhed beneath him, sliding his hands around Barry’s waist. Barry snaked a hand into the back of Cisco’s pants, teasing Cisco with a finger.

                “Fuck, you can vibrate your hands?” Cisco gasped.

                “Not just my hands,” Barry purred. Cisco chewed his lip, like he was suddenly making all the calculations of what Barry could do. It looked like he was enjoying those thoughts. But maybe that was Barry’s fingers.

                Cisco tensed, gripping Barry’s arm. A moment later, he relaxed, panting. The front of his pants were a little damp. Barry stopped teasing Cisco.

                “This has never happened to me, I swear,” Cisco said, sheepish.

                “It’s okay. It’s going to keep happening to you,” Barry chuckled. “Savitar may be the god of speed, but I’m the god of sex.”

                “Can I worship you?” Cisco asked, stroking Barry’s chest. Barry let Cisco down.

                Cisco pressed him against the other side of the doorway. Cisco traced Barry’s body with his hands and face. He nibbled his way down Barry’s side. Barry licked his lips, barely containing his excitement when Cisco dragged down that zipper with his teeth.

                “Fuck,” Barry panted. “Sex god is very pleased.” Cisco pinched Barry’s ass.

                “Stop talking about yourself in the third person,” Cisco mumbled. He unbuttoned Barry’s fly and reached in. Barry hissed a little at Cisco’s chilly hands.

                Cisco leaned in, tonguing the head. Barry ran a hand through Cisco’s soft hair. For the feeling of Cisco’s hair and his jaw muscles as they tensed and slackened. Cisco was always so good at this. Cisco let go, only latch onto Barry’s balls.

                “Mmm,” Barry groaned. “Fuck. You look good with those in your mouth.”

                Cisco glanced up at him through two miles of dark eyelashes. Barry flushed. And here he’d thought that he’d never get this again. Cisco let go, a little saliva wetting his lips.

                “Hey, sex god, you think we can get a little sex up in here?” Cisco panted.

 

Cisco gripped Barry’s hands. Barry yanked harder on Cisco’s hair.

                “Ah, fuuuuuck,” Cisco moaned. Barry held Cisco steady against the desk with his other hand. He slowed down, really letting Cisco enjoy this orgasm. Under his hands, Cisco tensed, then relaxed. He turned into jelly in Barry’s arms.

                “Okay, sex god,” Cisco said. “You can totally cum in my temple.”

                “Did you just-,” Barry said.

                “Deal with it, sex god,” Cisco snickered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of my All My Science is Sexy series! I hope you all enjoyed it. I'm going to work on some other projects for a little while. I hope to roll out another smut series soon!


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